OF  CAUF.  LIBRARY.  MW 


THE  ARRIVAL  OF  HOSE  AND  HILDEGAKDK. 


HlLDEGARDE'S    HOLIDAY 


A  SEQUEL  TO  QUEEN  HILDEGARDE 


BY 


LAURA   E.   RICHARDS 


ILLUSTRATED 


BOSTON 

ESTES    AND    LAURIAT 
PUBLISHERS 


Copyright,  1891, 
BY  ESTES  AND  LAURIAT. 


tto  Press: 
JOHN  WILSON  AND  SON,  CAMBRIDGE,  U.S  A. 


To  H.  R. 


2132284 


CONTENTS. 


I.  INTRODUCTORY 11 

II.  Miss  WEALTHY 20 

III.  THE  ORCHARD       34 

IV.  THE  DOCTORS 53 

V.  ON  THE  RIVER 74 

VI.  A  MORNING  DRIVE 94 

VII.  A  "STORY  EVENING" .  126 

VIII.  FLOWER-DAY 151 

IX.  BROKEN  FLOWERS 178 

X.  THE  HOUSE  IN  THE  WOOD 201 

XI.  "  UP  IN  THE  MORNING  EARLY  "     ....  222 

XII.  BENNY 241 

XIII.  A  SURPRISE ...  254 

XIV.  TELEMACHUS  GOES  A-FISHING 278 

XV.  THE  GREAT  SCHEME 300 

XVI.  THE  WIDOW  BRETT 314 

XVII.  OLD  MR.  COLT 337 

XVTII.  JOYOUS  GARD 354 


LIST  OF   ILLUSTRATIONS. 


PAGE 

THE  ARRIVAL  OF  ROSE  AND  HILDEGARDE  .    .  Frontispiece 

"SOME  ONE  WAS  SEEN  COMING  TOWARD  THEM".    .  51 

"SHE  PULLED  CLOSE  TO  THE  BANK" 83 

"  SOME  ONE  WAS  LOOKING  IN  AT  THE  WINDOW"      .  114 

PREPARING  FOR  FLOWER-DAY 163 

444 FEEL  HIS  PULT,' SAID  BENNY" 188 

"  SHE  FINALLY  SUCCEEDED  IN  STANDING  UP  ON  THE 

LOG  " 230 

"4CAN    YOU    TELL    US    WHERE    MRS.   BRETT    LIVES?'"        323 


HILDEGARDE'S    HOLIDAY. 


CHAPTER    I. 

INTRODUCTORY. 

IN  a  small  waiting-room  at  Blank  Hospital 
a  girl  was  walking  up  and  down,  with  quick, 
impatient  steps.  Every  few  minutes  she 
stopped  to  listen ;  then,  hearing  no  sound, 
she  resumed  her  walk,  with  hands  clasped 
and  lips  set  firmly  together.  She  was  evi- 
dently in  a  state  of  high  nervous  excitement, 
for  the  pupils  of  her  eyes  were  so  dilated  that 
they  flashed  black  as  night  instead  of  gray ; 
and  a  bright  red  spot  burned  in  either  cheek. 
In  the  corner,  in  an  attitude  of  anxious  de- 
jection, sat  a  small  dog.  He  had  tried  fol- 


12  HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY. 

lowing  his  mistress  at  first,  when  she  began 
her  walk,  and  finding  that  the  promenade 
took  them  nowhere  and  was  very  monoto- 
nous, had  tried  to  vary  the  monotony  by 
worrying  her  heels  in  a  playful  manner ; 
whereupon  he  had  been  severely  repri- 
manded, and  sent  into  the  corner,  from 
which  he  dared  not  emerge.  He  was  try- 
ing, with  his  usual  lack  of  success,  to  fathom 
the  motives  which  prompted  human  beings 
to  such  strange  and  undoglike  actions,  when 
suddenly  a  door  opened,  and  a  lady  and  gen- 
tleman came  in.  The  girl  sprang  forward. 
"  Mamma !  "  she  cried.  "  Doctor  !  " 

"  It  is  all  right,  my  dear,"  said  the  doctor, 
quickly ;  while  the  lady,  whose  name  was  Mrs. 
Grahame,  took  the  girl  in  her  arms  quietly, 
and  kissed  her.  "  It  is  all  right ;  everything 
has  gone  perfectly,  and  in  a  few  days  your 
lovely  friend  will  be  better  than  she  has  ever 
been  since  she  was  a  baby." 


HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY.  13 

Hildegarde  Grahame  sat  down,  and  leaning 
her  head  on  her  mother's  shoulder,  burst  into 
tears. 

"  Exactly  !  "  said  the  good  doctor.  "  The 
best  thing  you  could  do,  my  child  !  Do  you 
want  to  hear  the  rest  now,  or  shall  I  leave 
it  for  your  mother  to  tell  ?  " 

"  Let  her  hear  it  all  from  you,  Doctor," 
said  Mrs.  Grahame.  "  It  will  do  her  more 
good  than  anything  else." 

Hildegarde  looked  up  and  nodded,  and 
smiled  through  her  tears. 

"  Well,"  said  the  cheerful  physician,  "  Miss 
Angel  (her  own  name  is  an  impossibility,  and 
does  not  belong  to  her)  has  really  borne  the 
operation  wonderfully.  Marvellously  !  "  he 
repeated.  "  The  constitution,  you  see,  was 
originally  good.  There  was  a  foundation  to 
work  upon ;  that  means  everything,  in  a 
case  like  this.  Now  all  that  she  requires  is 
to  be  built  up,  —  built  up!  Beef  tea,  chicken 


14  HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY. 

broth,  wine  jelly,  and  as  soon  as  practicable, 
fresh  air  and  exercise,  —  there  is  your  pro- 
gramme, Miss  Hildegarde ;  I  think  I  can 
depend  upon  you  to  carry  it  out." 

The  girl  stretched  out  her  hand,  which  he 
grasped  warmly.  "  Dear,  good  doctor !  "  she 
said  ;  whereupon  the  physician  growled,  and 
went  and  looked  out  of  the  window. 

"  And  how  soon  will  she  be  able  to  walk  ?  " 
asked  the  happy  Hildegarde,  drying  her  eyes 
and  smiling  through  the  joyful  tears.  "  And 
when  may  I  see  her,  Doctor  ?  and  how  does 
she  look,  Mamma  darling  ?  " 

"  Place  aux  dames ! "  said  the  Doctor. 
"  You  may  answer  first,  Mrs.  Grahame, 
though  your  question  came  last." 

"  Dear,  she  looks  like  a  white  rose  !  "  re- 
plied Mrs.  Grahame.  "  She  is  sleeping  quietly, 
with  no  trace  of  pain  on  her  sweet  face.  Her 
breathing  is  as  regular  as  a  baby's ;  all  the 
nurses  are  coming  on  tiptoe  to  look  at  her. 


HILDEGARDE'S   HOLIDAY.  15 

and  they  all  say,  '  Bless  her ! '  when  they 
move  away." 

"  My  turn  now,"  said  Dr.  Flower.  "  You 
may  see  her,  Miss  Hildegarde,  the  day  after 
to-morrow,  if  all  goes  well,  as  I  am  tolerably 
sure  it  will ;  and  she  will  be  able  to  walk  — 
well,  say  in  a  month." 

"  Oh  !  a  month  !  "  cried  Hildegarde,  dole- 
fully. "  Do  you  mean  that  she  cannot  walk 
at  all  till  then,  Doctor  ?  " 

"  Why,  Hilda !  "  said  Mrs.  Grahame,  in 
gentle  protest.  "  Pink  has  not  walked  for 
fourteen  years,  remember ;  surely  a  month 
is  a  very  short  time  for  her  to  learn  in." 

"  I  suppose  so,"  said  the  girl,  still  looking 
disappointed,  however. 

"  Oh,  she  will  begin  before  that ! "  said  Dr. 
Flower.  "  She  will  begin  in  ten  days,  per- 
haps. Little  by  little,  you  know,  —  a  step  at 
a  time.  In  a  fortnight  she  may  go  out  to 
drive ;  in  fact,  carriage  exercise  will  be  a 


16  HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY. 

very  good  thing  for  her.     An  easy  carriage, 
a  gentle  horse,  a  careful  driver  — " 

"  Oh,  you  best  of  doctors  !  "  cried  Hilde- 
garde,  her  face  glowing  again  with  delight. 
"  Mamma,  is  not  that  exactly  what  we  want  ? 
I  do  believe  we  can  do  it,  after  all.  You  see, 
Doctor  —  Oh,  tell  him,  Mammy  dear  !  You 
will  tell  him  so  much  better." 

"  Hildegarde  has  had  a  very  delightful  plan 
for  this  summer,  Doctor,"  said  Mrs.  Graham, 
"  ever  since  you  gave  us  the  happy  hope 
that  this  operation,  after  the  year  of  treat- 
ment, would  restore  our  dear  Rose  to  com- 
plete health.  A  kinswoman  of  mine,  a  very 
lovely  old  lady,  who  lives  in  Maine,  spent  a 
part  of  last  winter  with  us,  and  became  much 
interested  in  Rose,  —  or  Pink,  as  we  used  to 
call  her." 

"  But  we  dorit  call  her  so  now,  Mammy  !  " 
cried  Hildegarde,  impetuously.  "  Rose  is  ex- 
actly as  much  her  own  name,  and  she  likes 


HILDE(;Alll)K'S  HOLIDAY.  17 

it  much  better ;  and  even  Bubble  says  it  is 
prettier.  But  I  didn't  mean  to  interrupt, 
Mammy  dear.  Go  on,  please  !  " 

"  So,"  continued  Mrs.  Grahame,  smiling, 
••  Cousin  Wealthy  invited  the  two  girls  to 
make  her  a  long  visit  this  summer,  as  soon 
as  Rose  should  be  able  to  travel.  I  am  sure 
it  would  be  a  good  thing  for  the  child,  if  you 
think  the  journey  would  not  be  too  much 
for  her ;  for  it  is  a  lovely  place  where  Cousin 
Wealthy  lives,  and  she  would  have  the  best 
of  care." 

"  Capital !  "  cried  Dr.  Flower  ;  "  the  very 
thing  !  She  shall  be  able  to  travel,  my  dear 
madam.  We  will  pack  her  in  cotton  wool  if 
necessary ;  but  it  will  not  be  necessary.  It 
is  now  —  let  me  see  —  May  10th ;  yes, 
quite  so  I  By  the  1 5th  of  June  you  may 
start  on  your  travels,  Miss  Hildegarde.  There 
is  a  railway  near  your  cousin's  home,  Mrs 
Grahame  ?  " 


18  HILDEGARDE'S   HOLIDAY. 

"  Oh,  yes !  "  cried  Hilda.  "  It  goes  quite 
near,  does  n't  it,  Mamma  ?  " 

"  Within  two  or  three  miles,"  said  M  rs. 
Grahame ;  "  and  the  carriage  road  is  very 
good." 

"  That  is  settled,  then !  "  said  Dr.  Flower, 
rising ;  "  and  a  very  good  thing  too.  And 
now  I  must  go  at  once  and  tell  the  good 
news  to  that  bright  lad,  Miss  Rose's  brother. 
He  is  at  school,  I  think  you  said  ? " 

"  Yes,"  replied  Hildegarde.  "  He  said  he 
would  rather  not  know  the  exact  day,  since 
he  could  not  be  allowed  to  help.  Good  Bub- 
ble !  he  has  been  so  patient  and  brave, 
though  I  know  he  has  thought  of  nothing 
else  day  and  night.  Thank  you,  Doctor, 
for  being  so  kind  as  to  let  him  know. 
Good-by ! " 

But  when  Dr.  Flower  went  out  into  the 
hall,  he  saw  standing  opposite  the  door  a 
boy,  neatly  dressed  and  very  pale,  with 


HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY.  19 

burning  eyes,  which  met  his  in  an  agony  of 
inquiry. 

"She  is  all  right,"  said  the  physician, 
quickly.  "  She  is  doing  extremely  well,  and 
will  soon  be  able  to  walk  like  other  people. 
How  upon  earth  did  you  know  ? "  he  added, 
in  some  vexation,  seeing  that  the  sudden  re- 
lief from  terrible  anxiety  was  almost  more 
than  the  lad  could  bear.  "What  idiot  told 
you?" 

Bubble  Chirk  gave  one  great  sob ;  but  the 
next  moment  he  controlled  himself.  ""No- 
body told  me,"  he  said ;  "  I  knew.  I  can't 
tell  you  how,  sir,  but  —  I  knew  !  " 


20  HILDEGARDE'S   HOLIDAY. 


CHAPTER    II. 

MISS   WEALTHY. 

IT  was  the  17th  of  June,  and  Miss  Wealthy 
Bond  was  expecting  her  young  visitors. 
Twice  she  had  gone  over  the  house,  with 
Martha  trotting  at  her  heels,  to  see  that 
everything  was  in  order,  and  now  she  was 
making  a  third  tour  of  inspection;  not  be- 
cause she  expected  to  find  anything  wrong, 
but  because  it  was  a  pleasure  to  see  that 
everything  was  right. 

Miss  Wealthy  Bond  was  a  very  pretty  old 
lady,  arid  was  very  well  aware  of  the  fact, 
having  been  told  so  during  seventy  years. 
"  The  Lord  made  me  pleasant  to  look  at," 
she  was  wont  to  say,  "  and  it  is  a  great  privi- 


HILDEGARDE'S   HOLIDAY.  21 

lege,  my  dear ;  but  it  is  also  a  responsibility." 
She  had  lovely,  rippling  silver  hair,  and  soft 
blue  eyes,  and  a  complexion  like  a  girl's.  She 
had  put  on  to-day,  for  the  first  time,  her  sum- 
mer costume,  —  a  skirt  and  jacket  of  striped 
white  dimity,  open  a  little  at  the  neck,  with 
a  kerchief  of  soft  white  net  inside.  This  ker- 
chief was  fastened  with  quite  the  prettiest 
brooch  that  ever  was,  —  a  pansy,  made  of 
five  deep,  clear  amethysts,  set  in  a  narrow 
rirn  of  chased  gold.  Miss  Wealthy  always 
wore  this  brooch;  for  in  winter  it  harmo- 
nized as  well  with  her  gown  of  lilac  cashmere 
as  it  did  in  summer  with  the  white  dimity. 
At  her  elbow  stood  Martha ;  it  was  her  place 
in  life.  She  seldom  had  to  be  called ;  but 
was  always  there  when  Miss  Wealthy  wanted 
anything,  standing  a  step  back,  but  close  be- 
side her  beloved  mistress.  Martha  carried 
her  aureole  in  her  pocket,  or  somewhere  else 
out  of  sight ;  but  she  was  a  saint  all  the  same. 


22  HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY. 

Her  gray  hair  was  smooth,  and  she  wore 
spectacles  with  silver  rims,  and  a  gray  print 
gown,  with  the  sleeves  invariably  rolled  up 
to  the  elbows,  except  on  Sundays,  when  she 
put  on  her  black  cashmere,  and  spent  the 
afternoon  in  uneasy  state. 

"  I  think  the  room  looks  very  pretty, 
Martha,"  said  Miss  Wealthy,  for  the  tenth 
time. 

"  It  does,  Mam,"  replied  Martha,  as  heartily 
as  if  she  had  not  heard  the  remark  before. 
"  Proper  nice  it  looks,  I  'rn  sure." 

"  You  mended  that  little  place  in  the  cur- 
tain, did  you,  Martha  ?  " 

"  I  did,  Mam.  I  don't  think  as  you  could 
find  it  now,  unless  you  looked  very  close." 

"  And  you  put  lavender  and  orange-flower 
water  in  the  bottles  ?  Very  well ;  then  that 's 
all,  I  think." 

Miss  Wealthy  gave  one  more  contented 
look  round  the  pretty  room,  with  its  gay 


HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY.  23 

rose-flowering  chintz,  its  cool  straw  matting, 
and  comfortable  cushioned  window-seats,  and 
then  drew  the  blinds  exactly  half-way  down, 
and  left  the  room,  Martha  carefully  closing 
the  door. 

In  the  cool,  shady  drawing-room  all  was  in 
perfect  order  too.  There  were  flowers  in  the 
tall  Indian  vases  on  the  mantelpiece,  a  great 
bowl  of  roses  on  the  mosaic  centre-table,  and, 
as  usual,  a  bunch  of  pansies  on  the  little 
round  table  by  the  armchair  in  which  Miss 
Wealthy  always  sat.  She  established  herself 
there  now,  and  took  up  her  knitting  with  a 
little  sigh  of  contentment. 

"  And  everything  is  right  for  supper,  Mar- 
tha ?"  she  asked. 

"Yes,  Mam,"  said  Martha.  "A  little 
chicken-pie,  Mam,  and  French  potatoes,  and 
honey.  I  should  be  making  the  biscuit  now, 
Mam,  if  you  did  n't  need  me." 

"  Oh  no,  Martha,"  said  the  old  lady,   "  I 


24  HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY. 

don't  need  anything.  We  shall  hear  the 
wheels  when  they  come." 

She  looked  out  of  the  window,  across  the 
pleasant  lawn,  at  the  blue  river,  and  seemed 
for  a  moment  as  if  she  were  going  to  ask 
Martha  whether  that  were  all  right.  But 
she  said  nothing,  and  the  saint  in  gray  print 
trotted  away  to  her  kitchen. 

"  Dear  Martha ! "  said  Miss  Wealthy,  set- 
tling herself  comfortably  among  her  cushions. 
"It  is  a  great  privilege  to  have  Martha.  I 
do  hope  these  dear  girls  will  not  put  her  out. 
She  grows  a  little  set  in  her  ways  as  she 
grows  older,  my  good  Martha.  I  don't  think 
that  blind  is  quite  half-way  down.  It  makes 
the  whole  room  look  askew,  does  n't  it  ?  " 

She  rose,  and  pulled  the  blind  straight, 
patted  a  tidy  on  the  back  of  a  chair,  and 
settled  herself  among  her  cushions  again, 
with  another  critical  glance  at  the  river.  A 
pause  ensued,  during  which  the  old  ladv's 


HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY.  25 

needles  clicked  steadily ;  then,  at  last,  the 
sound  of  wheels  was  heard,  and  putting  her 
work  down  in  exactly  the  same  spot  from 
which  she  had  taken  it  up,  Miss  Wealthy 
wrent  out  on  the  piazza  to  welcome  her  young 
guests. 

Hildegarde  sprang  lightly  from  the  car- 
riage, and  gave  her  hand  to  her  companion 
to  help  her  out. 

"  Dear  Cousin  Wealthy,"  she  cried,  "  here 
we  are,  safe  and  sound.  I  am  coming  to  kiss 
you  in  one  moment.  Carefully,  Rose  dear ! 
Lean  on  me,  so !  there  you  are !  now  take 
my  arm.  Slowly,  slowly  !  See,  Cousin 
Wealthy  !  see  how  well  she  walks  !  Is  n't 
it  delightful?" 

"  It  is,  indeed !  "  said  the  old  lady,  heart- 

* 

ily,  kissing  first  the  glowing  cheek  and  then 
the  pale  one,  as  the  girls  came  up  to  her. 
"And  how  do  you  do,  my  dears?  I  am 
very  glad  indeed  to  see  you.  Rose,  you 


26  IIILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY. 

look  so  much  better,  I  should  hardly  have 
known  you ;  and  you,  Hilda,  look  like  June 
itself.  I  must  call  Martha — *  I'ut  Martha 
was  there,  at  her  elbow.  "  Oh,  Martha ! 
here  are  the  young  ladies." 

Hildegarde  shook  hands  warmly  with  Mar- 
tha, and  Rose  gave  one  of  her  shy,  sweet 
smiles. 

"  This  is  Miss  Hildegarde,"  said  the  old 
lady ;  "  and  this  is  Miss  Rose.  Perhaps  you 
will  take  them  up  to  their  rooms  now,  Mar- 
tha, and  Jeremiah  can  take  the  trunks  up. 
We  will  have  supper,  my  dears,  as  soon  as 
you  are  ready;  for  I  am  sure  you  must  be 
hungry." 

"  Yes,  we  are  as  hungry  as  hunters,  Cous- 
in Wealthy  ! "  cried  Hildegarde.  "  We  shall 

• 

frighten  you  with  our  appetites,  I  fear.  This 
way,  Martha?  Yes,  in  one  minute.  Rose 
dear,  I  will  put  my  arm  round  you,  and  you 
can  take  hold  of  the  stair-rail.  Slowly  now  !  " 


HILDEGARDE'S   HOLIDAY.  27 

They  ascended  the  stairs  slowly,  and  Hil- 
degarde  did  not  loose  her  hold  of  her  friend 
until  she  had  seated  her  in  a  comfortable 
easy-chair  in  the  pretty  chintz  bedroom. 

"  There,  dear !  "  she  said  anxiously,  stoop- 
ing to  unfasten  her  cloak.  "  Are  you  very 
dreadfully  tired  ?  " 

"  Oh  no!"  replied  Rose,  cheerfully;  "not 
at  all  dreadfully  tired,  only  comfortably.  I 
ache  a  little,  of  course,  but —  Oh,  what  a 
pleasant  room  !  And  this  chair  is  comfort 
itself." 

"  The  window-seat  for  me ! "  cried  Hilde- 
garde,  tossing  her  hat  on  the  bed,  and  then 
leaning  out  of  the  window  with  both  arms 
on  the  sill.  "  Rose,  don't  move  !  I  forbid 
you  to  stir  hand  or  foot.  I  will  tell  you 
while  you  are  resting.  There  is  a  river,  — 
a  great,  wide,  beautiful  river,  just  across  the 
lawn." 

"Well,    dear,"    said    quiet    Rose,    smiling, 


28  HILDEGARDE'S   HOLIDAY. 

"you  knew  there  was  a  river;  your  mother 
told  us  so." 

"Yes,  Goose,  I  did  know  it,"  cried  Hilde- 
garde ;  "  but  I  had  not  seen  it,  and  did  n't 
know  what  it  was  like.  It  is  all  blue,  with 
sparkles  all  over  it,  and  little  brown  flurries 
where  the  wind  strikes  it.  There  are  wil- 
lows all  along  the  edge  —  " 

"  To  hang  our  harps  on  ?  "  inquii^d  Rose. 

"  Precisely  !  "  replied  Hildegarde.  "  And 
I  think  —  Rose,  I  do  see  a  boat-house  !  My 
dear,  this  is  bliss !  We  will  bathe  every 
morning.  You  have  never  seen  me  dive, 
Rose." 

"  I  have  not,"  said  Rose  ;  "  and  it  would 
be  a  pity  to  do  it  out  of  the  window,  dear, 
because  in  the  first  place  I  should  only  see 
your  heels  as  you  went  out,  and  in  the 
second  —  " 

"  Peace,  paltry  soul !  "  cried  Hilda.  "  Here 
comes  a  scow,  loaded  with  wood.  The  wood 


HILDKGARDE'S   HOLIDAY.  29 

has  been  wet,  and  is  all  yellow  and  gleam- 
ing. '  Scow/  • —  what  an  absurd  word  ! 
'Barge'  is  prettier." 

"  It  sounds  so  like  Shalott,"  said  Rose ;  "  I 
must  come  and  look  too. 

"  '  By  the  margin,  willow-veiled, 
Slide  the  heavy  barges,  trailed 
By  slow  horses.' " 

"  Yes,  it  is  just  like  it !  "  cried  Hildegarde. 
"  It  is  really  a  redeeming  feature  in  you, 
Rose,  that  you  are  so  apt  in  your  quotations. 
Say  the  part  about  the  river ;  that  is  exactly 
like  what  I  am  looking  at." 

"  Do  you  say  it ! "  said  Rose,  coming  softly 
forward,  and  taking  her  seat  beside  her  friend. 
"  I  like  best  to  hear  you." 

And  Hildegarde  repeated  in  a  low  tone,  - 

••  Willows  whiten,  aspens  quiver, 
Little  breezes  duck  and  shiver 
Through  the  wave  that  runs  forever 
By  the  island  in  the  river 
Flowing  down  to  Camelot." 


30  HILDEGARDE'S   HOLIDAY. 

The  two  girls  squeezed  each  other's  hand 
a  little,  and  looked  at  the  shining  river,  and 
straightway  forgot  that  there  was  anything 
else  to  be  done,  till  a  sharp  little  tinkle  roused 
them  from  their  dream. 

"  Oh  !  "  cried  Hildegarde.  "  Rose,  how 
could  you  let  me  go  a- woolgathering  ?  Just 
look  at  my  hair  !  " 

"  And  my  hands ! "  said  Rose,  in  dismay. 
"  And  we  said  we  were  as  hungry  as  hunt- 
ers, and  would  be  down  in  a  minute.  What 
will  Miss  Bond  say  ?  " 

"  Well,  it  is  all  the  river's  fault,"  said  Hil- 
degarde, splashing  vigorously  in  the  basin. 
"  It  should  n't  be  so  lovely  !  Here,  dear, 
here  is  fresh  water  for  you.  Now  the  brush  ! 
Let  me  just  wobble  your  hair  up  for  you,  so. 
There  !  now  you  are  my  pinkest  Rose,  and 

1  am  all  right  too  ;  so  down  we   go." 

- 
Miss  Wealthy  had  been  seriously  disturbed 

when   the  girls  did  not  appear  promptly  at 


HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY.  31 

sound  of  the  tea-bell.  She  took  her  seat  at 
the  tea-table  and  looked  it  over  carefully. 
"  Punctuality  is  so  important,"  she  said, 
half  to  herself  and  half  to  Martha,  who  had 
just  set  down  the  teapot,  —  "That  mat  is 
not  quite  straight,  is  it,  Martha  ?  —  especially 
in  young  people.  I  know  it  makes  you 
nervous,  Martha,"  —  Martha  did  not  look  in 
the  least  nervous,  —  "  but  it  will  probably  not 
happen  again.  If  the  butter  were  a  little  far- 
ther this  way!  Thank  you,  Martha.  Oh, 
here  you  are,  my  dears  !  Sit  down,  pray ! 
You  must  be  very  hungry  after —  But 
probably  you  felt  the  need  of  resting  a  little, 
and  to-morrow  you  will  be  quite  fresh." 

"No,  it  wasn't  that,  Cousin  Wealthy,"  said 
Hildegarde,  frankly.  "  I  am  ashamed  to  say 
that  we  were  looking  out  of  the  window,  and 

the  river  was  so  lovely  that  we  forgot  all 

- 
about  supper.     Please  forgive  us  this  once, 

for  really  we  are  pretty  punctual  generally. 


32  IIILDE(iARI)K'S   HOLIDAY 

It  is  part  of  Papa's  military  code,  you 
know." 

"True,  my  dear,  true!"  said  Miss  Wealthy, 
brightening  up  at  once.  "  Your  father  is 
very  wise.  Regular  habits  are  a  great  privi- 
lege, really.  Will  you  have  tea,  Hilda  dear, 
or  milk  ?  " 

"  Oh,  milk,  please  !  "  said  Hilda.  "  I  am 
not  to  take  tea  till  1  am  twenty-one,  Cousin 
Wealthy,  nor  coffee  either." 

"And  a  very  good  plan,"  said  Miss  Wealthy, 
approvingly.  "Milk  is  the  natural  beverage 
— will  you  cut  that  pie,  dear,  and  help  Rose 
and  yourself?  —  for  the  young.  When  one 
is  older,  however,  a  cup  of  tea  is  very  com- 
forting. None  for  me,  thank  you,  dear.  1 
have  my  little  dish  of  milk-toast,  but  I 
thought  the  pie  would  be  just  right  for  you 
young  people.  Martha's  pastry  is  so  very 
light  that  a  small  quantity  of  it  is  not 
injurious." 


HILDEGARDE'S   HOLIDAY.  33 

"  Rose !  "  said  Hildegarde,  in  tones  of 
hushed  rapture,  "  it  is  a  chicken-pie,  and 
it  is  all  for  us.  Hold  your  plate,  favored 
one  of  the  gods!  A  river,  a  boat-house,  and 
chicken-pie !  Cousin  Wealthy,  I  am  so  glad 
you  asked  us  to  come  ! " 

"  Are  you,  dear  ? "  said  Miss  Wealthy, 
looking  up  placidly  from  her  milk-toast. 
«  Well,  so  am  I !  " 


34  HILDEGAKDE'S  HOLIDAY. 


CHAPTER  HI. 

THE    ORCHARD. 

NEXT  morning,  when  breakfast  was  over, 
Miss  Wealthy  made  a  little  speech,  giving 
the  two  girls  the  freedom  of  the  place. 

"You  will  find  your  own  way  about,  my 
dears,"  she  said.  "  I  will  only  give  you 
some  general  directions.  The  orchard  is  to 
the  right,  beyond  the  garden.  There  is  a 
pleasant  seat  there  under  one  of  the  apple- 
trees,  where  you  may  like  to  sit.  Beyond 
that  are  the  woods.  On  the  other  side  of 
the  house  is  the  barnyard,  and  the  road 
goes  by  to  the  village.  You  will  find  plenty 
of  flowers  all  about,  and  I  hope  you  will 
amuse  yourselves." 


HILDEGARDE'S   HOLIDAY.  35 

"Oh,  indeed  we  shall,  Cousin  Wealthy!" 
cried  Hildegarde.  "  It  is  delight  enough 
just  to  breathe  this  delicious  air  and  look 
at  the  river." 

They  were  sitting  on  the  piazza,  from 
which  the  lawn  sloped  down  to  a  great  hedge 
of  Norway  fir,  just  beyond  which  flowed  the 
broad  blue  stream  of  the  Kennebec. 

"  How  about  the  river,  Cousin  Wealthy  ? " 
asked  Hildegarde,  timidly.  "  I  thought  I 
saw  a  boat-house  through  the  trees.  Could 
we  go  out  to  row  ?  " 

Miss  Wealthy  seemed  a  little  flurried  by 
the  question.  "  My  dear,"  she  said,  and 
hesitated,  —  "  my  dear,  have  you  —  do  your 
parents  allow  you  to  go  on  the  water?  Can 
you  swim  ? " 

"  Oh,  yes,"  said  Hildegarde,  "  I  can  swim 
very  well,  Cousin  Wealthy,  —  at  least,  Papa 
says  I  can ;  and  I  can  row  and  paddle  and 
sail." 


36  HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY. 

"  Oh,  not  sail ! "  cried  Miss  Wealthy,  with 
an  odd  little  catch  in  her  breath,  —  "not  sail, 
my  dear  !  I  could  not  —  1  could  not  think 
of  that  for  a  moment.  But  there  is  a  row- 
boat,"  she  added,  after  a  pause,  —  "a  boat 
which  Jeremiah  uses.  If  Jeremiah  thinks 
she  is  perfectly  safe,  you  can  go  out,  if 
you  feel  quite  sure  your  parents  would 
wish  it." 

"  Oh,  1  am  very  sure,"  said  Hildegarde  ; 
"  for  I  asked  Papa,  almost  the  last  thing  be- 
fore we  left.  Thank  you,  Cousin  Wealthy,  so 
much  !  We  will  be-  rather  quiet  this  morn- 
ing, for  Rose  does  not  feel  very  strong  ;  but 
this  afternoon  perhaps  we  will  try  the  boat. 
Is  n't  there  something  I  can  do  for  you, 
Cousin  Wealthy  ?  Can't  I  help  Martha  >  I 
can  do  all  kinds  of  work,  —  can't  I,  Rose  ?  — 
and  I  love  it !  " 

But  Martha  had  a  young  girl  in  the  kitch- 
en, Miss  Wealthy  said,  whom  she  was  train- 


HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY.  37 

ing  to  help  her ;  and  she  herself  had  let- 
ters to  write  and  accounts  to  settle.  So 
the  two  girls  sauntered  off  slowly,  arm  in 
arm ;  Rose  leaning  on  her  friend,  whose 
strong  young  frame  seemed  able  to  support 
them  both. 

The  garden  was  a  very  pleasant  place, 
with  rhubarb  and  sunflowers,  sweet  peas 
and  mignonette,  planted  here  and  there 
among  the  rows  of  vegetables,  just  as  Jere- 
miah's fancy  suggested.  Miss  Wealthy's  own 
flower-beds,  trim  and  gay  with  geraniums, 
pansies,  and  heliotrope,  were  under  the  dining- 
room  windows ;  but  somehow  the  girls  liked 
Jeremiah's  garden  best.  Hildegarde  pulled 
some  sweet  peas,  and  stuck  the  winged  blos- 
soms in  Rose's  fair  hair,  giving  a  fly-away 
look  to  her  smooth  locks.  Then  she  began 
to  sniff  inquiringly.  "  Southernwood  !  "  she 
said,  — "  I  smell  southernwood  somewhere, 
Rose.  Where  is  it?" 


38  HILDEGARDE'S   HOLIDAY. 

"  Yonder,"  said  Rose,  pointing  to  a  feathery 
bush  not  far  off. 

"  Oh  !  and  there  is  lavender  too,  Hilda  ! 
Do  you  .suppose  we  may  pick  some  ?  I 
do  like  to  have  a  sprig  of  lavender  in  my 
belt" 

At  this  moment  Jeremiah  appeared,  wheel- 
ing a  load  of  turf.  He  was  *'  long  and  lank 
and  brown  as  is  the  ribbed  sea-sand,"  and  Ilil- 
degarde  mentally  christened  him  the  Ancient 
Mariner  on  the  spot ;  but  he  smiled  sadly  and 
said,  "  GW7-mornin',"  and  seemed  pleased 
when  the  girls  praised  his  garden.  "Ee-yus! " 
he  said,  with  placid  melancholy.  "  I  've  seen 
wuss  places.  Minglin'  the  blooms  with  the 
truck  and  herbs  was  my  idee,  as  you  may 
say,  —  'livens  up  one,  and  sobers  down  the 
other.  She  laughs  at  me,  but  she  don't  keer, 
s'  long  as  she  has  all  she  wants.  Cut  ye  some 
mignonette  ?  That's  very  favoryte  with  me, 
—  very  favoryte." 


HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY.  39 

He  cut  a  great  bunch  of  mignonette  ;  and 
Rose,  proffering  her  request  for  lavender,  re- 
ceived a  nosegay  as  big  as  she  could  hold  in 
both  hands. 

"  The  roses  is  just  comin'  on,"  he  said. 
"  Over  behind  them  beans  they  are.  A  sight 
o'  roses  there  '11  be  in  another  week.  Coreop- 
sis is  pooty,  too ;  that 's  down  the  other  side 
of  the  corn.  Gurus  garding,  folks  thinks ; 
but,  there,  it's  my  idee,  and  she  don't  keer." 

Much  amused,  the  girls  thanked  the  melan- 
choly prophet,  and  wandered  away  into  the 
orchard,  to  find  the  seat  that  Miss  Wealthy 
had  told  them  of. 

"  Oh,  what  a  lovely,  lovely  orchard ! " 
cried  Hildegarde,  in  delight;  and  indeed  it 
was  a  pretty  place.  The  apple-trees  were 
old,  and  curiously  gnarled  and  twisted,  bend- 
ing this  way  and  that,  as  apple-trees  will. 
The  s.hort,  fine  grass  was  like  emerald ;  there 
were  no  flowers  at  all,  only  green  and  brown, 


40  HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY. 

with  the  sunlight  flickering  through  the 
branches  overhead.  They  found  the  seat, 
which  was  curiously  wedged  into  the  double 
trunk  of  the  very  patriarch  of  apple-trees. 

"  Do  look  at  him !  "  cried  Hildegarde.  "  He 
is  like  a  giant  with  the  rheumatism.  Suppose 
we  call  him  Blunderbore.  What  does  twist 
them  so,  Rose  ?  Look  !  there  is  one  with  a 
trunk  almost  horizontal." 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Rose,  slowly.  "  An- 
other item  for  the  ignorance  list,  Hilda.  It 
is  growing  appallingly  long.  I  really  don't 
know  why  they  twist  so.  In  the  forest  they 
grow  much  taller  than  in  orchards,  and  go 
straight  up.  Farmer  Hartley  has  seen  one 
seventy  feet  high,  he  says." 

"  Let  us  call  it  vegetable  rheumatism  !  " 
said  Hildegarde.  "  How  is  your  poor  back 
this  morning,  ma'am  ? "  She  addressed  an 
ancient  tree  with  respectful  sympathy ;  in- 
deed, it  did  look  like  an  aged  dame  bent 


HILDEGARDE'S   HOLIDAY.  41 

almost  double.  "  Have  you  ever  tried  Pond's 
Extract  ?  I  think  I  must  really  buy  a  gallon 
or  so  for  you.  And  as  long  as  you  must  bend 
over,  you  will  not  mind  if  I  take  a  little  walk 
along  your  suffering  spine,  and  sit  on  your 
arm,  will  you  ?  " 

She  walked  up  the  tree,  and  seated  herself 
on  a  branch  which  was  crooked  like  a  friendly 
arm,  making  a  very  comfortable  seat.  "  She  's 
a  dear  old  lady,  Rose  !  "  she  cried.  "  Doesn't 
mind  a  bit,  but  thinks  it  rather  does  her  good, 
—  like  massage,  you  know.  "  What  do  3^011 
suppose  her  name  is  ?  " 

"Dame  Crump  would  do,  wouldn't  it?" 
replied  Rose,  looking  critically  at  the  ven- 
erable dame. 

"  Of  course  !  and  that  ferocious  old  person 
brandishing  three  arms  over  yonder  must  be 
Croquemitaine,  — 

"  '  Croquemitaiiie  !  Croquemitaine  ! 
Ne  dinerai  pas  'vec  toi !' 


42  HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY. 

I  think  they  are  rather  a  savage  set,  —  don't 
you,  Rosy  ?  —  all  except  my  dear  Dame 
Crump  here." 

"  I  know  they  are,"  said  Rose,  in  a  low 
voice.  "  Hush !  the  three  witches  are  just 
behind  you,  Hilda.  Their  skinny  arms  are 
outstretched  to  clasp  you  !  Fly,  and  save 
yourself  from  the  caldron  !  " 

"  Avaunt !  "  cried  Hilda,  springing  lightly 
from  Dame  Crump's  sheltering  arm.  "  Ye 
secret,  black,  and  midnight  hags,  what  is  't 
ye  do?" 

*  A  deed  without  a  name  !  "  muttered  Rose, 
in  sepulchral  tones. 

"  I  think  it  is,  indeed  !  "  cried  Hildegarde, 
laughing.  "  Poor  old  gouty  things  !  they  can 
only  claw  the  air,  like  Grandfather  Sin  all - 
weed,  and  cannot  take  a  single  step  to 
clutch  me." 

"  Just  like  me,  as  I  was  a  year  ago,"  said 
Rose,  smiling. 


HILDEGARDE'S   HOLIDAY.  48 

"  Rose  !  how  can  you  ?  "  cried  Hildegarde, 
indignantly  ;  "  as  if  you  had  not  always  been 
a  white  rosebush." 

"On  wheels!"  said  Rose.  "I  often  think 
of  my  dear  old  chair,  and  wonder  if  it  misses 
me.  Hildegarde  dear !  " 

"  My  lamb  !  "  replied  Hildegarde,  sitting 
down  by  her  friend  and  giving  her  a  little 
hug. 

"  I  wish  you  could  know  how  wonderful 
it  all  is  !  I  wish  —  no,  I  don't  wish  you 
could  be  lame  even  for  half  an  hour ;  but 
I  wish  you  could  just  dream  that  you  were 
lame,  and  then  wake  up  and  find  everything 
right  again.  Having  always  walked,  you 
cannot  know  the  wonder  of  it.  To  think 
that  I  can  stand  up  —  so  !  and  walk  —  so ! 
actually  one  foot  before  the  other,  just  like 
other  people.  Oh !  and  I  used  to  wonder 
how  they  did  it.  I  don't  now  understand 
how  "  four-leggers,"  as  Bubble  calls  them, 


44  HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY. 

move  so  many  things  without  getting  mixed 
up."  • 

"  Dear  Rose  !  you  are  happy,  are  n't  you  ?  " 
exclaimed  Hildegarde,  with  delight. 

"  Happy  ! "  echoed  Rose,  her  sweet  face 
glowing  like  her  own  name-flower.  "  But 
I  was  always  happy,  you  know,  dear.  Now 
it  is  happiness,  with  fairyland  thrown  in.  I 
am  some  wonderful  creature,  walking  through 
miracles;  a  kind  of —  Who  was  the  fairy- 
knight  you  were  telling  me  about  ? " 

"  Lohengrin  ?  "  said  Hildegarde.  "  No,  you 
are  more  like  Una,  in  the  *  Faerie  Queene.' 
In  fact,  I  think  you  are  Una." 

"  And  then,"  continued  Rose,  "  there  is 
another  thing  !  At  least,  there  are  a  thou- 
sand other  things,  but  one  that  I  was  thinking 
of  specially  just  now,  when  you  named  the 
trees.  That  was  only  play  to  you ;  but,  Hil- 
da, it  used  to  be  almost  quite  real  for  me,  — 
that  sort  of  thing.  Sitting  there  as  I  used, 


HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY.  45 

day  after  day,  year  after  year,  mostly  alone, — 
for  mother  and  Bubble  were  always  at  work, 
you  know,  —  you  cannot  imagine  how  real 
all  the  garden-people,  as  I  called  them,  were 
to  me.  Why,  my  Eglantine  —  I  never  told 
you  about  Eglantine,  Hilda  !  " 

"  No,  heartless  thing !  you  never  did,"  said 
Hildegarde ;  "  and  you  may  tell  me  this  in- 
stant. A  pretty  friend  you  are,  keeping 
things  from  me  in  that  way !  " 

"  She  was  a  fair  maiden,"  said  Rose.  "  She 
stood  against  the  wall,  just  by  my  window. 
She  was  very  lovely  and  graceful,  with  long-, 
slender  arms.  Some  people  called  her  a 
sweetbrier-bush.  She  was  my  most  inti- 
mate friend,  and  was  always  peeping  in  at 
the  window  and  calling  me  to  come  out. 
When  I  came  and  sat  close  beside  her  in  my 
chair,  she  would  bend  over  me,  and  tell  me 
all  about  her  love-affairs,  which  gave  her  a 
great  deal  of  trouble." 


46  HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY. 

"Poor  thing!"  said  Hildegarde,  sympa- 
thetically. 

"  She  had  two  lovers,"  continued  Rose, 
dreamily,  talking  half  to  herself.  "  One  was 
Sir  Scraggo  de  Cedar,  a  tall  knight  in  rusty 
armor,  who  stood  very  near  her,  and  loved 
her  to  distraction.  But  she  cared  nothing 
for  him,  and  had  given  her  heart  to  the 
South  Wind, —  the  most  fickle  and  tormenting 
lover  you  can  imagine.  Sometimes  he  was 
perfectly  charming,  and  wooed  her  in  the 
most  enchanting  manner,  murmuring  soft 
things  in  her  ear,  and  kissing  and  caressing 
her,  till  I  almost  fell  in  love  with  him  myself. 
Then  he  would  leave  her  alone,  —  oh !  for 
days  and  days,  —  till  she  drooped,  poor  thing  ! 
and  was  perfectly  miserable.  And  then  per- 
haps he  would  come  again  in  a  fury,  and 
shake  and  beat  her  in  the  mqst  frightful 
manner,  tearing  her  hair  out,  and  some- 
times flinging  her  right  into  the  arms  of 


HILDEGARDE'S   HOLIDAY.  47 

poor  Sir  Scraggo,  who  quivered  with  emo- 
tion, but  never  took  advantage  of  the 
situation.  I  used  to  be  very  sorry  for  Sir 
Scraggo." 

"  What  a  shame  !  "  cried  Hildegarde, 
warmly.  "  Could  n't  you  make  her  care  for 
the  poor  dear?" 

"  Oh,  no !  "  said  Rose.  "  She  was  very 
self-willed,  that  gentle  Eglantine,  in  spite  of 
her  soft,  pretty  ways.  There  was  no  moving 
her.  She  turned  her  back  as  nearly  as  she 
could  on  Sir  Scraggo,  and  bent  farther  and 
farther  toward  the  south,  stretching  her  arms 
out  as  if  imploring  her  heartless  lover  to 
stay  with  her.  I  fastened  her  back  to  the 
wall  once  with  strips  of  list,  for  she  was  spoil- 
ing her  figure  by  stooping  so  much  ;  but  she 
looked  so  utterly  miserable  that  I  took  them 
off  again.  Dear  Eglantine !  I  wonder  if  she 
misses  me." 

"  I  think  she  was  rather  a  minx,  do  you 


48  HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY. 

know  ?  "  said  Hildegarde.  "  I  prefer  Sir 
Scraggo  myself." 

"  Well,"  replied  Rose,  "  one  respected  Sir 
Scraggo  very  much  indeed  ;  but  he  was  //<// 
beautiful,  and  all  the  De  Cedars  are  pretty 
stiff  and  formal.  Then  you  must  remember 
he  was  older  than  Eglantine  and  I,  —  ever 
and  ever  so  much  older." 

"  That  does  make  a  difference,"  said  Hil- 
degarde. "  Who  were  some  other  of  your 
garden  people,  you  funniest  Rose  ?  " 

"  There  was  Old  Moneybags  !  "  replied 
Rose.  "  How  I  did  detest  that  old  man  !  He 
was  a  hideous  old  thorny  cactus,  all  covered 
with  warts  and  knobs  and  sharp  spines. 
Dear  mother  was  very  proud  of  him,  and  she 
was  always  hoping  he  would  blossom,  but 
he  never  did.  He  lived  in  the  house  in 
winter,  but  in  spring  Mother  set  him  out  in 
the  flower-bed,  just  beside  the  double  but- 
tercup. So  when  the  buttercup  blossomed, 


HILDEGARDE'S   HOLIDAY.  49 

with  its  lovely  yellow  balls,  I  played  that 
Old  Moneybags,  who  was  an  odious  old  miser, 
was  counting  his  gold.  Then,  when  the 
petals  dropped,  he  piled  his  money  in  little 
heaps,  and  finally  he  buried  it.  He  was  n't 
very  interesting,  Old  Moneybags,  but  the 
buttercups  were  lovely.  Then  there  were 
Larry  Larkspur  and  Miss  Poppy.  I  wonder  — 
No  !  I  don't  believe  you  would." 

"  What  I  like  about  your  remarks,"  said 
Hildegarde,  "  is  that  they  are  so  clear.  What 
do  you  mean  by  believing  I  would  n't  ?  I 
tell  you  I  would  ! " 

"Well,"  said  Rose,  laughing  and  blush- 
ing, "it  really  isn't  anything;  only — well, 
I  made  a  little  rhyme  about  Larry  Larkspur 
and  Miss  Poppy  one  summer.  I  thought  of 
it  just  now;  and  first  I  wondered  if  it  would 
amuse  you,  and  then  I  decided  it  would  n't." 

"  Yon  decided,  forsooth ! "  cried  Hilde- 
garde. "  ' "  Who  are  you  ?  "  said  the  cater- 

4 


50  HILDEGARDE'S   HOLIDAY. 

pillar.'     I  will  hear  about  Larry  Larkspur,  if 
you  please,  without  more  delay." 

"  It  really  isrit  worth  hearing !  "  said  Rose. 
"  Still,  if  you  want  it  you  shall  have  it ;  so 

listen ! 

• 

"  Larry  Larkspur,  Larry  Larkspur, 

Wears  a  cap  of  purple  gay ; 
Trim  and  handy  little  daudy, 
Straight  and  smirk  he  stands  alway. 

"  Larry  Larkspur,  Larry  Larkspur, 
Saw  the  Poppy  blooming  fair ; 
Loved  her  for  her  scarlet  satin, 
.         Loved  her  for  her  fringed  hair. 

"  Sent  a  message  by  the  night-wind : 

'  Wilt  thou  wed  me,  lady  gay  ? 
For  the  heart  of  Larry  Larkspur 
Beats  and  burns  for  thee  alway.' 

"  When  the  morning  'gan  to  brighten, 

Eager  glanced  he  o'er  the  bed. 

Lo !  the  Poppy's  leaves  had  fallen ; 

Bare  and  brown  her  ugly  head. 


ONE    WAS    .SI.K.N    COMING    TOWARD    THEM. 


HILDEGARDE'S   HOLIDAY.  51 

"  Sore  amazed  stood  Larry  Larkspur, 
And  his  heart  with  grief  was  big. 
1  Woe  is  me  !  she  was  so  lovely, 

Who  could  guess  she  wore  a  wig  ? '" 

Hildegarde  was  highly  delighted*  with  the 
verses,  and  clamored  for  more ;  but  at  this 
moment  some  one  was  seen  coming  toward 
them  through  the  trees.  The  some  one 
proved  to  be  Martha,  with  her  sleeves 
rolled  up,  beaming  mildly  through  her  spec- 
tacles. She  carried  a  tray,  on  which  were 
two  glasses  of  creamy  milk  and  a  plate  of 
freshly  baked  cookies.  Such  cookies !  crisp 
and  thin,  with  what  Martha  called  a  "  pale 
bake"  on  them,  and  just  precisely  the  right 
quantity  of  ginger. 

"  Miss  Rose  does  n't  look  over  and  above 
strong,"  she  explained,  as  the  girls  exclaimed 
with  delight,  "  and  't  would  be  a  pity  for  her 
to  eat  alone.  The  cookies  is  fresh,  and  may- 
be they're  pretty  good." 


52  HILDEGARDE'S   HOLIDAY. 

"  Martha,"  said  Hildegarde,  as  she  nibbled 
a  cooky,  "  you  are  a  saint !  Where  do  you 
keep  your  aureole,  for  I  am  sure  you  have 
one?" 

"  There 's  a  pair  of  'em,  Miss  Hilda,"  re- 
plied Martha.  "  They  build  every  year  in 
the  big  elm  by  the  back  door,  and  they  do 
sing  beautiful." 


HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY.  53 

rr 


CHAPTER  IV. 

THE    DOCTORS. 

"  MY  dears,"  said  Miss  Wealthy,  as  they  sat 
down  to  dinner,  —  the  bell  rang  on  the  stroke 
of  one,  and  the  girls  were  both  ready  and 
waiting  in  the  parlor,  which  pleased  the  dear 
old  lady  very  much, —  "my  dears,  when  I 
made  the  little  suggestions  this  morning  as 
to  how  you  should  amuse  yourselves,  I  en- 
tirely forgot  to  mention  Dr.  Abernethy.  I 
cannot  imagine  how  I  should  have  forgotten 
it,  but  Martha  assures  me  that  I  did.  Dr. 
Abernethy  is  entirely  at  your  service  in  the 
mornings,  but  I  generally  require  him  for  an 
hour  in  the  afternoon.  I  arn  sure  Rose  will  be 
the  better  for  his  treatment ;  and  I  trust  you 


54  HILDEGARDE'S   HOLIDAY. 

will  both  find  him  satisfactory,  though  possi- 
bly he  may  seem  to  you  a  little  slow,  for  he 
is  not  so  young  as  he  once  was." 

"  Dr.  —  Oh,  Cousin  Wealthy  !  "  exclaimed 
Hildegarde,  in  dismay.  "  But  we  are  per- 
fectly well !  At  least  —  of  course,  Rose  is 
not  strong  yet;  but  she  is  gaining  strength 
every  day,  and  we  have  Dr.  Flower's  direc- 
tions. Indeed,  we  don't  need  any  doctor." 

Cousin  Wealthy  smiled.  She  enjoyed  a 
little  joke  as  much  as  any  one,  and  Dr.  Aber- 
nethy  was  one  of  her  standing  jokes. 

"  I  think,  my  dear,"  she  said,  "  that  you 
will  be  very  glad  to  avail  yourself  of  the 
Doctor's  services  when  once  you  know  him. 
Indeed,  I  shall  make  a  point  of  your  seeing 
him  once  a  day,  as  a  rule."  Then,  seeing 
that  both  girls  were  thoroughly  mystified, 
she  added:  "Dr.  Abernethy  is  a  very  dis- 
tinguished physician.  He  gives  no  medicine, 
his  invariable  prescription  being  a  little  gentle 


HILDEGARDE'S   HOLIDAY.  55 

exercise.  He  lives  —  in  the  stable,  my  dears, 
and  he  has  four  legs  and  a  tail." 

"  Oh !  oh  !  Cousin  Wealthy,  how  could  you 
frighten  us  so !  "  cried  Hildegarde.  "  You  must 
be  kissed  immediately,  as  a  punishment." 
She  flew  around  the  table,  and  kissed  the 
soft  cheek,  like  a  crumpled  blush  rose.  "  A 
horse !  How  delightful !  Rose,  we  were 
wishing  that  we  might  drive,  were  n't  wre  ? 
And  what  a  funny,  nice  name  !  Dr.  Aber- 
nethy !  He  was  a  great  English  doctor, 
was  n't  he  ?  And  I  was  wondering  if 
some  stupid  country  doctor  had  stolen  his 
name." 

"  I  had  rather  a  severe  illness  a  few  years 
ago,"  said  Miss  Wealthy,  "  and  when  I  was 
recovering  from  it  my  physician  advised  me 
to  try  driving  regularly,  saying  that  he 
should  resign  in  favor  of  Dr.  Horse.  So  I 
bought  this  excellent  beast,  and  named  him 
Dr.  Abernethy,  after  the  famous  physician, 


56  HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY. 

whom  I  had  seen  once  in  London,  when  I 
was  a  little  girl." 

"It  was  he  who  used  to  do  such  queer 
things,  was  n't  it  ?  "  said  Hildegarde.  "  Did 
he  do  anything  strange  when  you  saw  him, 
Cousin  Wealthy?" 

"  Nothing  really  strange,"  said  Miss 
Wealthy,  "  though  it  seemed  so  to  me  then. 
He  came  to  see  my  mother,  who  was  ill, 
and  bolted  first  into  the  room  where  I  sat 
playing  with  my  doll. 

"  '  Who  's  this  ?  who  's  this  ?  '  he  said,  in  a 
very  gruff  voice.  *  Little  girl !  Humph  ! 
Tooth-ache,  little  girl  ? ' 

"  *  JSTo,  sir,'  I  answered  faintly,  being  fright- 
ened nearly  out  of  my  wits. 

"  '  Head-ache,  little  girl  ? ' 

" '  No,  sir.' 

"  '  Stomach-ache,  little  girl  ?  ' 

"  «  Oh,  no,  sir ! ' 

"'Then  take  that!'  and  he  thrust  a  little 


HILDEGARDE'S   HOLIDAY.  57 

paper  of  chocolate  drops  into  my  hand,  and 
stumped  out  of  the  room  as  quickly  as  he 
had  come  in.  I  thought  he  was  an  ogre 
at  first;  for  I  was  only  seven  years  old,  and 
had  just  been  reading  i  Jack  and  the  Bean- 
stalk ; '  but  the  chocolate  drops  reassured 
me." 

"  What  an  extraordinary  man  !  "  exclaimed 
Rose.  "  And  was  he  a  very  good  doctor  ?  " 

"Oh,  wonderful!"  replied  Miss  Wealthy. 
"  People  came  from  all  parts  of  the  world 
to  consult  him,  and  he  could  not  even  go 
out  in  the  street  without  being  clutched  by 
some  anxious  patient.  They  used  to  tell 
a  funny  story  about  an  old  woman's  catching 
him  in  this  way  one  day,  when  he  was  in 
a  great  hurry,  —  but  he  was  always  in  a 
hurry,  —  and  pouring  out  a  long  string  of 
symptoms,  so  fast  that  the  doctor  could  not 
get  in  a  word  edgewise.  At  last  he  shouted 
*  Stop  ! '  so  loud  that  all  the  people  in  the 


58  HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY. 

street  turned  round  to  stare.  The  old  lady 
stopped  in  terror,  and  Dr.  Abernethy  bade 
her  shut  her  eyes  and  put  her  tongue  out ; 
then,  when  she  'did  so,  he  walked  off,  and 
left  her  standing  there  in  the  middle  of  the 
sidewalk  with  her  tongue  out.  I  don't  know 
whether  it  is  true,  though." 

"  Oh,  I  hope  it  is !  "  cried  Hildegarde,  laugh- 
ing. "  It  is  too  funny  not  to  be  true." 

"  We  had  a  very  queer  doctor  at  Glenfield 
some  years  ago,"  said  Rose.  "  He  must  have 
been  just  the  opposite  of  Dr.  Abernethy.  He 
was  very  tall  and  very  slow,  and  spoke  with 
the  queerest  drawl,  using  always  the  longest 
words  he  could  find.  I  never  shall  forget 
his  coming  to  our  house  once  when  Bub- 
ble had  the  measles.  He  had  come  a  day 
or  two  before,  but  I  had  not  seen  him. 
This  time,  however,  I  was  in  the  room. 
He  sat  down  by  the  bed,  and  began  strok- 
ing his  long  chin.  It  was  the  longest  chin 


HILDEGARDE'S   HOLIDAY.  59 

I  ever  saw,  nearly  as  long  as  the.  rest  of 
his  face. 

" '  And  is  there  any  amelioration  of  the 
symptoms  this  morning  ? '  he  asked  Mother,  — 
'  ame-e-lioration  ? '  (He  was  very  fond  of 
repeating  any  word  that  he  thought  sounded 
well.) 

"  Poor  dear  mother  had  n't  the  faintest  idea 
what  amelioration  was ;  and  she  stammered 
and  colored,  and  said  she  had  n't  noticed  any, 
and  did  n't  think  the  child  had  it.  But  luckily 
I  was  in  the  *  Fifth  Reader '  then,  and  had 
happened  to  have  '  amelioration,'  in  my  spell- 
ing-lesson only  a  few  days  before  ;  so  I  spoke 
up  and  said,  '  Oh,  yes,  Dr.  Longman,  he  is  a 
great  deal  better,  and  he  is  really  hungry 
to-day.' 

"  '  Ah  ! '  said  Dr.  Longman,  '  craves  food, 
does  he  ?  —  cra-aves  food  ! ' 

"  Just  then  Bubble's  patience  gave  out. 
He  was  getting  better,  and  it  made  him  so 


60  HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY. 

cross,  poor  dear !  he  snapped  out,  in  his 
funny  way,  *  I  've  got  a  bile  comin'  on  my 
nose,  and  it  hurts  like  fury  ! ' 

"  Dr.  Longman  stooped  forward,  put  on  his 
spectacles,  and  looked  at  the  boil  carefully. 
(  Ah  !  '  he  said,  *  furunculus,  —  furunculus  ! 
Is  it  —  ah  —  is  it  excru-ciating  ?  ' 

"  I  can't  describe  the  way  in  which  he  pro- 
nounced the  last  word.  As  he  said  it,  he 
dropped  his  head,  and  looked  over  his  spec- 
tacles at  Bubble  in  a  way  that  was  perfectly 
irresistible.  Bubble  gave  a  sort  of  howl,  and 
disappeared  under  the  bedclothes ;  and  I  had 
a  fit  of  coughing,  which  made  Mother  very 
anxious.  Dear  mother  !  she  never  could  see 
.anything  funny  about  Dr.  Longman." 

At  this  moment  Martha  entered,  bringing 
the  dessert, —  a  wonderful  almond-pudding, 
such  as  only  Martha  could  make.  She  stopped 
a  moment,  holding  the  door  as  if  to  prevent 
some  one's  coming  in. 


HILDEGARDE'S   HOLIDAY.  61 

"  Here 's  the  Doctor  wants  terrible  to  come 
in,  Mam  !  "  she  said.  "  Will  I  let  him  ?  " 

"  Yes,  certainly,"  said  Miss  Wealthy,  smil- 
ing. "  Let  the  good  Doctor  in  !  " 

The  girls  looked  up  in  amazement,  half  ex- 
pecting to  see  a  horse's  head  appear  in  the 
doorway ;  but  instead,  a  majestic  black 
"  coon "  cat,  with  waving  feathery  tail  and 
large  yellow  eyes,  walked  solemnly  in,  and 
seeing  the  two  strangers,  stopped  to  observe 
them. 

"  My  dears,  this  is  the  other  Doctor !  "  said 
Miss  Wealthy,  bending  to  caress  the  new- 
comer "  Dr.  Samuel  Johnson,  at  your  ser- 
vice. He  is  one  of  the  most  important 
members  of  the  family.  Doctor,  I  hope 
you  will  be  very  friendly  to  these  young- 
ladies,  and  not  take  one  of  your  absurd 
dislikes  to  either  of  them.  All  depends 
upon  the  first  impression,  my  dears !  "  she 
added,  in  an  undertone,  to  the  girls.  "  He 


62  HILDEGAIIDE'S   HOLIDAY. 

is  forming  his  opinion  now,  and  nothing 
will  ever  alter  it." 

Quite  a  breathless  pause  ensued  ;•  while  the 
magnificent  cat  stood  motionless,  turning  his 
yellow  eyes  gravely  from  one  to  the  other 
of  the  girls  At  length  Hildegarde  could 
not  endure  his  gaze  any  longer,  and  she  said 
hastily  but  respectfully,  "  Yes,  sir !  I  hitve 
read  '  Pilgrim's  Progress,'  I  assure  you  !  — 
read  it  through  and  through,  a  number  of 
times,  and  love  it  dearly." 

Dr.  Johnson  instantly  advanced,  and  rub- 
bing his  head  against  her  dress,  purred 
loudly.  He  then  went  round  to  Rose,  who 
sat  opposite,  and  made  the  same  demonstra- 
tion of  good-will  to  her. 

"  Dear  pussy  !  "  said  Rose,  stroking  him 
gently,  and  scratching  him  behind  one  ear 
in  a  very  knowing  manner. 

Miss  Wealthy  drew  a  long  breath  of  satis- 
faction. "  It  is  all  right."  she  said.  "  Mar- 


HILDEGARDE'S    HOLIDAY.  63 

tha,  he  is  delighted  with  the  young  ladies. 
Dear  Doctor !  he  shall  have  some  almond- 
pudding  at  once.  Bring  me  his  saucer, 
please,  Martha !  " 

Martha  brought  a  blue  saucer;  but  Miss 
Wealthy  looked  at  it  with  surprise  and 
disapproval. 

"  That  is  not  the  Doctor's  saucer,  Martha," 
she  said.  u  Is  it  possible  that  you  have 
forgotten  ?  He  has  always  had  the  odd  yel- 
low saucer  ever  since  he  was  a  kitten." 

"I'm  sorry,  Mam,"  said  Martha,  gently. 
"Jenny  broke  the  yellow  saucer  this  morn- 
ing, Mam,  as  she  was  washing  it  after  the 
Doctor's  breakfast.  I  'm  very  sorry  it  should 
have  happened,  Mam." 

"  Broke  the  yellow  saucer  !  "  cried  Miss 
Wealthy.  Her  voice  was  as  soft  as  ever,  but 
Hildegarde  and  Rose  both  felt  as  if  the  Rus- 
sians had  entered  Constantinople.  There 
was  a  moment  of  dreadful  silence,  and  then 


64  HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY. 

Miss  Wealthy  tried  to  smile,  and  began  to 
help  to  the  almond-pudding.  "Yes,  I  am 
sure  you  are  sorry,  Martha !  "  she  said  ;  — 
"Hilda,  my  dear,  a  little  pudding?  —  and 
probably  Jenny  is  sorry  too.  You  like  the 
sauce,  dear,  don't  you  ?  We  think  Martha's 
almond-pudding  one  of  her  best.  I  should 
not  have  minded  so  much  if  it  had  been 
any  other,  but  this  was  an  odd  one,  and 
seemed  so  appropriate,  on  account  of  Ho- 
garth's '  Industrious  Apprentice '  done  in 
brown  on  the  inside.  Is  it  quite  sweet 
enough  for  you,  my  dear  Rose  ? " 

This  speech  was  somewhat  bewildering ; 
but  after  a  moment  Rose  succeeded  in  sep- 
arating the  part  that  belonged  to  her,  and 
said  that  the  pudding  was  most  delicious. 

"Jenny  broke  a  cup  last  winter,  did  she 
not,  Martha?"  asked  Miss  Wealthy. 

"  A  very  small  cup,  Mam/'  replied  Martha, 
deprecatingly.  "  That 's  all  she  has  broken 


HILDEGARDE'S   HOLIDAY.  65 

since  she  came.  "  She  's  young,  you  know. 
Mam  ;  and  she  says  the  saucer  just  slipped 
out  of  her  hand,  and  fell  on  the  bricks." 

Miss  Wealthy  shivered  a  little,  as  if  she 
heard  the  crash  of  the  broken  china.  "  I 
cannot  remember  that  you  have  broken 
anything1,  Martha,"  she  said,  "  in  thirty  years ; 
and  you  were  young  wthen  you  came  to  me. 
But  we  will  not  say  anything  more,  and  I 
dare  say  Jenny  will  be  more  careful  in  future. 
The  pudding  is  very  good,  Martha ;  and  that 
\vill  do,  thank  you."  Martha  withdrew,  and 
Miss  Wealthy  turned  to  the  girls  with  a  sad 
little  smile.  "  Martha  is  very  exact,"  she 
said.  "  A  thing  of  this  sort  troubles  her  ex- 
tremely. Very  methodical,  my  good  Martha ! " 

"  Hildegarde,"  said  Rose,  wishing  to  turn 
the  subject  and  cheer  the  spirits  of  their 
kind  hostess,  "  what  did  you  mean,  just  now, 
by  telling  Dr.  Johnson  that  you  had  read 
'  Pilgrim's  Progress  '  ?  I  am  much  puzzled  !  " 

6 


66  HILDEGARDE'S   HOLIDAY. 

Hildegarde  laughed.  "  Oh  !  "  she  said. 
"  he  understood,  but  I  will  explain  for  your 
benefit.  When  I  was  a  little  girl  I  was  not 
inclined  to  like  *  Pilgrim's  Progress'  at  first. 
I  thought  it  rather  dull,  and  liked  the  Fairy 
Book  better.  I  said  so  to  Papa  one  day ;  and 
instead  of  replying,  he  went  to  the  bookcase, 
and  taking  down  Boswell's  *  Life  of  Johnson,' 
he  read  me  a  little  story.  I  think  I  can  say 
it  in  the  very  words  of  the  book,  they  made 
so  deep  an  impression  on  me :  *  Dr.  John- 
son one  day  took  Bishop  Percy's  little 
daughter  on  his  knee,  and  asked  her  what 
she  thought  of  "  Pilgrim's  Progress."  The 
child  answered  that  she  had  not  read  it. 
"No!"  replied  the  Doctor;  "then  I  would 
not  give  one  farthing  for  you ! "  And  he 
set  her  down,  and  took  no  further  notice 
of  her.'  When  Papa  explained  to  me,"  con- 
tinued Hildegarde,  laughing,  "  what  a  great 
man  Dr.  Johnson  was,  it  seemed  to  me  very 


IIILDEGARDE'S   HOLIDAY.  67 

dreadful  that  he  should  think  me,  or  another 
little  girl  like  me,  not  worth  a  farthing. 
So  I  set  to  work  with  right  good-will  at 
'  Pilgrim's  Progress ; '  and  when  I  was  once 
fairly  in.  the  story,  of  course  I  could  n't  put 
it  down  till  I  had  finished  it." 

"  Your  father  is  a  very  sensible  man,"  said 
Miss  Wealthy,  approvingly.  "  *  Pilgrim's  Pro- 
gress '  is  an  important  part  of  a  child's  edu- 
cation, certainly  !  Let  me  give  you  a  little 
more  pudding,  Hilda,  rny  dear !  No  !  nor 
you,  Rose  ?  Then,  if  the  Doctor  is  ready, 
suppose  we  go  into  the  parlor." 

They  found  the  parlor  very  cool  and 
pleasant,  with  the  blinds,  as  usual,  drawn 
half-way  down.  Miss  Wealthy  drew  one 
blind  half  an  inch  lower,  compared  it  with 
the  others,  and  pushed  it  up  an  eighth  of 
an  inch. 

'•  And  what  are  you  going  to  do  with  your- 
selves this  afternoon,  girlies  ?  "  she  asked,  set- 


68  HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY. 

tling  herself  in  her  armchair,  and  smelling 
of  her  pansies,  which,  as  usual,  stood  on  the 
little  round  table  at  her  elbow. 

"Rose  must  go  and  lie  down  at  once!" 
said  Hildegarde,  decidedly.  "She  must  lie 
down  for  two  hours  every  day  at  first,  Dr. 
Flower  says,  and  one  hour  by  and  by,  when 
she  is  a  great  deal  stronger.  And  I  —  oh, 
I  shall  read  to  her  a  little,  till  she  begins  to 
be  sleepy,  and  then  I  shall  write  to  Mamma 
and  wander  about.  This  is  such  a  h<ip/>>/ 
place,  Cousin  Wealthy !  One  does  not  need 
to  do  anything  in  particular ;  it  is  enough 
just  to  be  alive  and  well."  Then  she  re- 
membered her  manners,  and  added  :  "  But 
is  n't  there  something  I  can  do  for  you, 
Cousin  Wealthy?  Can't  I  write  some  notes 
for  you,  —  I  often  write  notes  for  Mamma,— 
or  wind  some  worsted,  or  do  something  use- 
ful ?  I  have  been  playing  all  day,  you 
know." 


HILDEGARDE'S   HOLIDAY.  69 

Miss  Wealthy  looked  pleased.  "  Thank 
you,  my  dear  !  "  she  said  warmly.  "  I  shall 
be  very  glad  of  your  help  sometimes ;  but 
to-day  I  really  have  nothing  for  you  to  do, 
and  besides,  I  think  the  first  day  ought 
to  be  all  play.  If  you  can  make  yourself 
happy  in  this  quiet  place,  that  is  all  I  shall 
ask  of  you  to-day.  I  shall  probably  take  a 
little  nap  myself,  as  I  often  do  after  dinner, 
sitting  here  in  my  chair." 

Obeying  Hildegarde's  imperative  nod,  Rose 
left  her  seat  by  the  window,  half  reluctantly, 
and  moved  slowly  toward  the  door.  "  It 
seems  wicked  to  lie  down  on  such  a  day ! " 
she  murmured  ;  "  but  I  suppose  I  must." 

As  she  spoke,  she  heard  a  faint,  a  very  faint 
sigh  from  Miss  Wealthy.  Feeling  instinc- 
tively that  something  was  wrong,  she  turned 
and  saw  that  the  tidy  on  the  back  of  the 
chair  she  had  been  sitting  in  had  slipped 
down.  She.  went  back  quickly,  straightened 


70  HILDEGARDE'S   HOLIDAY. 

it,  patted  it  #  little,  and  then  with  an  apolo- 
getic ghinca  and  smile  at  the  old  lady,  went 
to  join  Hildegarde. 

"  A  very  sweet,  well-mannered  girl !  "  was 
Miss  Wealthy's  mental  comment,  as  her  eyes 
rested  contentedly  on  the  smooth  rectangular 
lines  of  the  .tidy.  "  Two  of  the  sweetest  girls, 
in  fact,  that  I  have  seen  for  a  good  while. 
Mildred  has  brought  up  her  daughter  ex- 
tremely well ;  and  when  one  thinks  of  it, 
she  herself  has  developed  in  a  most  extraor- 
dinary manner.  A  most  notable  and  useful 
woman,  Mildred  !  Who  would  have  thought 
it?" 

Rose  slept  in  the  inner  bedroom,  which 
opened  directly  out  of  Hildegarde's,  with  a 
curtained  doorway  between.  It  was  a  pretty 
room,  and  very  appropriate  for  Rose,  as  there 
were  roses  on  the  wall-paper  and  on  the  soft 
gray  carpet.  Here  the  ex-invalid,  as  she 
began  to  call  herself,  lay  down  on  the  cool 


HILDEGARDK'S   HOLIDAY.  71 

white  bed,  in  the  pretty  summer  wrapper  of 
white  challis,  dotted  with  rosebuds,  which 
hud  been  Mrs.  Graharne's  parting  present. 
Ifildegarde  put  a  light  shawL  over  her,  and 
then  sat  down  on  the  window-seat. 

"  Shall  I  read  or  sing,  Rosy  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Oh  !  but  are  you  quite  sure  you  don't 
want  to  do  something  else,  dear  ? "  asked 
Rose. 

"  Absolutely  sure  !  "  said  Hildegarde. 
"  Quite  positively  sure  !  " 

"  Then,"  said  Rose,  "  sing  that  pretty  lul- 
laby that  you  found  in  the  old  song-book  the 
other  day.  So  pretty !  it  is  the  one  that 
Patient  Grissil  sings  to  her  babies,  isn't 
it?" 

So  Hilda  sang,  as  follows :  — 

"  '  Golden  slumbers  kiss  your  eyes, 
Smiles  awake  you  when  you  rise. 
Sleep,  pretty  wantons,  do  not  cry, 
And  I  will  sing  a  lullaby. 
Rock  them,  rock  them,  lullaby. 


72  HILDEGARDE'S   HOLIDAY. 

"  '  Care  is  heavy,  therefore  sleep  you ; 
You  are  care,  and  care  must  keep  you. 
Sleep,  pretty  wantons,  do  not  cry, 
And  I  will  sing  a  lullaby. 
Rock  them,  rock  them,  lullaby.'  " 

Hildegarde  glanced  at  the  bed,  and  saw 
that  Rose's  eyes  were  just  closing.  Still 
humming  the  last  lines  of  the  lullaby,  she 
cast  about  in  her  mind  for  something  else ; 
and  there  came  to  her  another  song  of  quaint 
old  Thomas  Dekker,  which  she  loved  even 
more  than  the  other.  She  sang  softly,  - 

"  '  Art  thou  poor,  yet  hast  thou  golden  slumbers  ? 

0  sweet  Content ! 
Art  thou  rich,  yet  is  thy  mind  perplexed  ? 

0  Punishment ! 

Dost  laugh  to  see  how  fools  are  vexed 
To  add  to  golden  numbers  golden  numbers  ? 

0  sweet  Content,  0  sweet,  0  sweet  Content ! 

"  '  Canst  drink  the  waters  of  the  crisped  spring  ? 

0  sweet  Content ! 

Swim'st  thou  in  wealth,  yet  sink'st  in  thine  own 
tears  ? 


HILDEGARDE'S   HOLIDAY.  73 

0  Punishment ! 

Then  he  that  patiently  Want's  burden  bears 
No  burden  bears,  but  is  a  king,  a  king. 

0  sweet  Content,  0  sweet,  0  sweet  Content.'  " 

Once  more  Hildegarde  glanced  at  the  bed  ; 
then,  rising  softly  and  still  humming  the 
lovely  refrain,  she  slipped  out  of  the  room ; 
for  Rose,  the  "sweet  content"  resting  like 
sunshine  on  her  face,  was  asleep. 


74  HILDKGARDE'S  HOLIDAY. 


CHAPTER    V. 

ON   THE    RIVER. 

HILDEGARDE  went  softly  downstairs,  and 
stood  in  the  doorway  for  a  few  minutes. 
looking  about  her.  The  house  was  very 
still ;  nothing  seemed  to  be  stirring,  or  even 
awake,  except  herself.  She  peeped  into  the 
parlor,  and  saw  Cousin  Wealthy  placidly 
sleeping  in  her  easy-chair.  At  her  feet,  on 
a  round  hassock,  lay  Dr.  Johnson,  also  sleep- 
ing soundly.  "  It  is  the  enchanted  palace," 
said  Hildegarde  to  herself;  '''only  the  prin- 
cess has  grown  old  in  the  hundred  years, — 
but  so  prettily  old !  —  and  the  prince  would 
have  to  be  a  stately  old  gentleman  to  match 
her."  She  went  out  on  the  lawn  ;  still  there 


HILDEGARDE'S   HOLIDAY.  75 

was  no  sound,  save  the  chirping  of  grass- 
hoppers and  crickets.  It  was  still  the  golden 
prime  of  a  perfect  June  day ;  what  would  be 
the  most  beautiful  thing  to  do  where  all  was 
beauty  ?  Read,  or  write  letters  ?  No  !  that 
she  could  do  when  the  glory  had  begun  to 
fade.  She  walked  about  here  and  there,  — 
"just  enjoying  herself,"  she  said.  She 
touched  the  white  heads  of  the  daisies;  but 
did  not  pick  them,  because  they  looked  so 
happy.  She  put  her  arms  round  the  most 
beautiful  elm-tree,  and  gave  it  a  little  hug, 
just  to  thank  it  for  being  so  stately  and 
graceful,  and  for  bending  its  branches  over 
her  so  lovingly.  Then  a  butterfly  came  flut- 
tering by.  It  was  a  Camberwell  Beauty, 
and  Hildegarde  followed  it  about  a  little  as 
it  hovered  lazily  from  one  daisy  to  another. 

"  Last  year  at  this  time,"  she  said,  thinking 
aloud,  "  I  did  n't  know  what  a  Camberwell 
Beauty  was.  I  did  n't  know  any  butterflies 


76  HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY. 

at  all ;  and  if  any  one  had  said  '  Fritillary ' 
to  me,  I  should  have  thought  it  was  some- 
thing to  eat."  This  disgraceful  confession 
was  more  than  the  Beauty  could  endure, 
and  he  fluttered  away  indignant. 

"  I  don't  wonder !  "  said  the  girl.  "  But 
you  'd  better  take  care,  my  dear.  1  know 
you  now,  and  I  don't  think  Bubble  has  more 
than  two  of  your  kind  in  his  collection.  I 
promised  to  get  all  the  butterflies  and  moths 
I  could  for  the  dear  lad,  and  if  you  are 
too  superior,  I  may  begin  with  you." 

At  this  moment  a  faint  creak  fell  on  her 
ear,  coming  from  the  direction  of  the  garden. 
"  As  of  a  wheelbarrow  !  "  she  said.  "  Jere- 
miah !  —  boat !  —  river !  —  now  I  know  what  I 
was  wanting  to  do."  She  ran  round  to  the 
garden  ;  and  there,  to  be  sure,  was  Jeremiah, 
wheeling  off  a  huge  load  of  weeds. 

"  Oh,  Jeremiah  !  "  said  Hildegarde,  eagerly, 
"  is  the  —  do  you  think  the  boat  is  safe  ?  " 


HILDEGARDE'S   HOLIDAY.  77 

Jeremiah  put  down  his  load  and  looked  at 
her  with  sad  surprise.  "  The  boat  ?  "  he  re- 
peated. "  She  's  all  safe  !  I  was  down  to  the 
wharf  this  mornin'.  Nobody  's  had  her  out, 
's  I  know  of." 

"  Oh,  I  did  n't  mean  that !  "  said  Hilde- 
garde,  laughing.  "  I  mean,  is  she  safe  for 
me  to  go  in  ?  Miss  Bond  said  that  I  could 
go  out  on  the  river,  if  you  said  it  was  all 
right.  Do  say  it 's  all  right,  Jeremiah  !  " 

Jeremiah  never  smiled,  but  his  melan- 
choly lightened  several  shades.  "  She 's  right 
enough,"  he  said,  —  "  the  boat.  She  is  n't 
hahnsome,  but  she  's  stiddy  's  a  rock.  She 
don't  like  boats,  any  way  o'  the  world,  but 
I  '11  take  ye  down  and  get  her  out  for  ye." 

Rightly  conjecturing  that  the  last  "  her  " 
referred  to  the  boat,  Hildegarde  gladly  fol- 
lowed the  Ancient  Mariner  down  the  path 
that  sloped  from  the  garden,  through  a  green 
pasture,  round  to  the  river-bank.  Here  she 


78  HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY. 

found  the  boat-house,  whose  roof  she  had 
seen  from  her  window,  and  a  gray  wharf 
with  moss-grown  piers.  The  tide  was  high, 
and  it  took  Jeremiah  only  a  few  minutes  to 
pull  the  little  green  boat  out,  and  set  her 
rocking  on  the  smooth  water. 

"  Oh,  thank  you !  "  said  Hildegarde.  "  I 
am  so  much  obliged  !  " 

"  No  need  ter  !  "  responded  Jeremiah,  po- 
litely. "  Ye  've  handled  a  boat  before,  have 
ye?" 

"  Oh,  yes,"  she  said.  "I  don't  think  I  shall 
have  any  trouble."  And  as  she  spoke,  she 
stepped  lightly  in,  and  seating  herself,  took 
the  oars  that  he  handed  her.  "  And  which 
is  the  prettiest  way  to  row,  Jeremiah,  —  up 
river,  or  down  ?  " 

Jeremiah  meditated.  "  Well,"  he  said,  "  I 
don't  hardly  know  as  I  can  rightly  tell.  Some 
thinks  one  way  's  pooty  ;  some  thinks  t'  other. 
Both  of  'em  's  sightly,  to  my  mind." 


HILDEGARDE'S   HOLIDAY.  7U 

"  Then  I  shall  try  both,"  said  Hildegarde, 
laughing.  "Good-by,  Jeremiah  !  I  will  bring 
the  boat  back  safe." 

The  oars  dipped,  and  the  boat  shot  off  into 
midstream.  Jeremiah  looked  after  it  a  few 
minutes,  and  then  turned  back  toward  the 
house.  "  She  knows  what  she  's  about !  "  he 
said  to  himself. 

Near  the  bank  the  water  had  been  a  clear, 
shining  brown,  with  the  pebbles  showing  white 
and  yellow  through  it ;  but  out  here  in  the 
middle  of  the  river  it  was  all  a  blaze  and  rip- 
ple and  sparkle  of  blue  and  gold.  Hildegarde 
rested  on  her  oars,  and  sat  still  for  a  few 
minutes,  basking  in  the  light  and  warmth ; 
but  soon  she  found  the  glory  too  strong,  and 
pulled  over  to  the  other  side,  where  high 
steep  banks  threw  a  shadow  on  the  water. 
Here  the  water  was  very  deep,  and  the 
rocks  showed  as  clear  and  sharp  beneath  it 
as  over  it.  Hildegarde  rowed  slowly  along, 


80  IIILDKGAKDK'S    HOLIDAY. 

sometimes  touching  the  warm  stone  with  her 
hand.  She  looked  down,  and  saw  little 
minnows  and  dace  darting  about,  here  and 
there,  up  and  down.  "  How  pleasant  to  he 
a  fishP'  she  thought.  "There  comes  one 
up  out  of  the  water.  Plop  !  Did  you  get 
the  fly,  old  fellow  ? 

'  They  wriggled  their  tails  ; 
In  the  sun  glanced  their  scales.'  " 

Then  she  tried  to  repeat  "  Saint  Anthony's 
Sermon  to  the  Fishes,"  of  which  she  was 
very  fond. 

"Sharp-snouted  pikes, 
Who  keep  fighting  like  tikes, 
Now  swam  up  harmonious 
To  hear  Saint  Antonius. 

No  sermon  beside 

Had  the  pikes  so  edified." 

Presently  something  waved  in  the  shadow, — 
something  moving,  among  the  still  reflections 
of  the  rocks.  Hildegarde  looked  up.  There, 


HILDEGARDE'S   HOLIDAY.  81 

growing  in  a  cranny  of  the  rock  above  her, 
was  a  cluster  of  purple  bells,  nodding  and 
swaying  on  slender  thread-like  stems.  They 
were  so  beautiful  that  she  could  only  sit  still 
and  look  at  them  at  first,  with  eyes  of  de- 
light. But  they  were  so  friendly,  and  nodded 
in  such  a  cheerful  way,  that  she  soon  felt 
acquainted  with  them. 

"  You  dears  !  "  she  cried  ;  "  have  you  been 
waiting  there,  just  for  me  to  come  and  see 
you?" 

The  harebells  nodded,  as  if  there  were  no 
doubt  about  it. 

"  Well,  here  I  am  !  "  Hildegarde  continued; 
"  and  it  was  very  nice  of  you  to  come.  How 
do  you  like  living  on  the  rock  there  ?  He 
must  be  very  proud  of  you,  the  old  brown 
giant,  and  I  dare  say  you  enjoy  the  water 
and  the  lights  and  shadows,  and  would  not 
stay  in  the  woods  if  you  could.  If  I  were 
a  flower,  I  should  like  to  be  one  of  you.  I 


82  HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY. 

think.  Good-by,  dear  pretties !  I  should  like 
to  take  you  home  to  Rose,  but  it  would  be  a 
wickedness  to  pick  you." 

She  kissed  her  hand  to  the  friendly  blos- 
soms, and  they  nodded  a  pleasant  good-by, 
as  she  floated  slowly  down  stream.  A  little 
farther  on,  she  came  to  a  point  of  rock  that 
jutted  out  into  the  river ;  on  it  a  single  pine 
stood  leaning  aslant,  throwing  a  perfect 
double  of  itself  on  the  glassy  water.  Hilde- 
garde  rested  in  the  shadow.  "To  be  in  a 
boat  and  in  a  tree  at  the  same  moment," 
she  thought,  "  is  a  thing  that  does  not  happen 
to  every  one.  Rose  will  not  believe  me  when 
I  tell  her ;  yet  here  are  the  branches  all 
arourid  me,  perfect,  even  to  the  smallest 
twig.  Query,  am  I  a  bird  or  a  fish  ?  Here 
is  actually  a  nest  in  the  crotch  of  these 
branches,  but  I  fear  I  shall  find  no  eggs  in 
it."  Turning  the  point  of  rock,  she  found 
on  the  other  side  a  fairy  cove,  with  a  tiny 


SHE    PULLED    CLOSE    TO   THE    BANK. 


HILDEGAKDE'S   HOLIDAY.  83 

patch  of  silver  sand,  and  banks  of  fern 
coining  to  the  water's  edge  on  either  side. 
Some  of  the  ferns  dipped  their  fronds  in  the 
clear  water,  while  taller  ones  peeped  over 
their  heads,  trying  to  catch  a  glimpse  of 
their  own  reflection. 

Hildegarde's  keen  eyes  roved  among  the 
green  masses,  seeking  the  different  varieties, 
—  botrychium,  lady-fern,  delicate  hart's- 
tongue  ;  behind  these,  great  nodding  ostrich- 
ferns,  bending  their  stately  plumes  over  their 
lowlier  sisters  ;  beyond  these  again  a  tangle 
of  brake  running  up  into  the  woods.  "  Why, 
it  is  a  fern  show ! "  she  thought.  "  This 
must  be  the  exhibition  room  for  the  whole 
forest.  Visitors  will  please  not  touch  the 
specimens ! " 

She  pulled  close  to  the  bank.  Instantly 
there  was  a  rustle  and  a  flutter  among  the 
ferns ;'  a  little  brown  bird  flew  out,  and  perch- 
ing on  the  nearest  tree,  scolded  most  vio- 


84  HILDKGARDK'S   HOLIDAY. 

lently.  Very  carefully  Hildegarde  drew  the 
ferns  aside,  and  lo  !  a  wonderful  thing,  —  a 
round  nest,  neatly  built  of  moss  and  tiny 
twigs;  and  in  it  four  white  eggs  spotted  with 
brown. 

"It  is  too  good  to  be  true,"  thought  the 
girl.  "'  I  am  asleep,  and  I  shall  wake  in  a 
moment.  I  have  n't  done  anything  to  de- 
serve seeing  this.  Rose  is  good  enough ;  I 
wish  she  were  here." 

But  the  little  brown  bird  was  by  this  time 
in  a  perfect  frenzy  of  maternal  alarm ;  and 
very  reluctantly,  with  an  apology  to  the 
angry  matron,  Hildegarde  let  the  ferns  swing 
back  into  place,  and  pulled  the  boat  away 
from  the  bank.  On  the  whole,  it  seemed  the 
most  beautiful  thing  she  had  ever  seen ;  but 
everything  was  so  beautiful ! 

The  girl's  heart  was  very  full  of  joy  and 
thankfulness  as  she  rowed  along.  Life  was 
so  full,  so  wonderful,  with  new  wonders,  new 


HILDEGARDE'S   HOLIDAY.  85 

beauties,  opening  for  her  every  day.  "  Let 
all  that  hath  life  praise  the  Lord !  "  she  mur- 
mured softly ;  and  the  very  silence  seemed 
to  fill  with  love  and  praise.  Then  her 
thoughts  went  back  to  the  time,  a  little 
more  than  a  year  ago,  when  she  neither 
knew  nor  cured  about  any  of  these  things ; 
when  "  the  country  "  meant  to  her  a  sum- 
mer watering-place,  where  one  went  for  two 
or  three  months,  to  wear  the  prettiest  of  light 
dresses,  and  to  ride  and  drive  and  walk  on 
the  beach.  Her  one  idea  of  life  was  the  life 
of  cities,  —  of  one  city,  New  York.  A  country- 
girl,  if  she  ever  thought  of  such  a  thing, 
meant  simply  an  ignorant,  coarse,  common 
girl,  who  had  no  advantages.  No  advan- 
tages !  and  she  herself,  all  the  time,  did  not 
know  one  tree  from  another.  She  had  been 
the  cleverest  girl  in  school,  and  she  could  not 
tell  a  robin's  note  from  a  vireo's ;  as  for  the 
wood-thrush,  she  had  never  heard  of  it.  A 


86  HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY. 

flower  to  her  meant  a  hot-house  rose  ;  a  bird 
was  a  bird  ;  a  butterfly  was  a  butterfly.  All 
other  insects,  the  whole  winged  host  that  fills 
the  summer  air  with  life  and  sound,  were 
included  under  two  heads,  "  millers "  and 
"  bugs." 

"  No,  not  quite  so  bad  as  that !  "  she  cried 
aloud,  laughing,  though  her  cheeks  burned 
at  her  own  thoughts.  "  I  did  know  bees  and 
wasps,  and  I  think  I  knew  a  dragon-fly  when 
I  saw  him." 

But  for  the  rest,  there  seemed  little  to  say 
in  her  defence.  She  was  just  like  Peter  Bell, 
she  thought ;  and  she  repeated  Wordsworth's 
lines,  — 

"  A  primrose  by  a  river's  brim 
A  yellow  primrose  was  to  him, 
And  it  was  nothing  more." 

Here  was  this  little  brown  bird,  for  ex- 
ample. Bird  and  song  and  eggs,  all  to- 
gether could  not  tell  her  its  name.  She 


HILDEGARDE'S   HOLIDAY.  87 

drew  from  her  pocket  a  little  brown  leather 
note-book,  and  wrote  in  it,  "  Four  white 
eggs,  speckled  with  brown  ;  brown  bird,  small, 
nest  of  fine  twigs,  on  river-bank ; "  slipped 
it  in  her  pocket  again,  and  rowed  on,  feeling 
better.  After  all,  it  was  so  very  much  better 
to  know  that  one  had  been  a  goose,  than 
not  to  know  it !  Now  that  her  eyes  were 
once  open,  was  she  not  learning  something 
new  every  day,  almost  every  hour? 

She  rowed  on  now  with  long  strokes,  for 
the  bank  was  steep  and  rocky  again,  and 
there  were  no  more  fairy  coves.  Soon, 
however,  she  came  to  an  island,  —  a  little 
round  island  in  the  middle  of  the  river, 
thickly  covered  with  trees.  This  was  a  good 
place  to  turn  back  at,  for  Rose  would  be 
awake  by  this  time  and  looking  for  her. 
First,  however,  she  would  row  around  the 
island,  arid  consider  it  from  all  sides. 

The   farther   side    showed    an    opening  in 


88  HILDEGARDE'S   HOLIDAY. 

the  trees,  and  a  pretty  little  dell,  shaded  by 
silver  birches,  —  a  perfect  place  for  a  picnic, 
thought  Hildegarde.  She  would  bring  Rose 
here  some  day,  if  good  Martha  would  make 
them  another  chicken-pie ;  perhaps  Cousin 
Wealthy  would  come  too.  Dear  Cousin 
Wealthy !  how  good  and  kind  and  pretty 
she  was  I  One  would  not  mind  growing- 
old,  if  one  could  be  sure  of  being  good  and 
pretty,  and  having  everybody  love  one. 

At  this  moment,  as  Hildegarde  turned  her 
boat  up  river,  something  very  astonishing 
happened.  Not  ten  yards  away  from  her,  a 
huge  body  shot  up  out  of  the  water,  described 
a  glittering  arc,  and  fell  again,  disappearing 
with  a  splash  which  sent  the  spray  flying  in 
all  directions  and  made  the  rocks  echo. 
Hildegarde  sat  quite  still  for  several  minutes, 
petrified  with  amazement,  and,  it  must  be 
confessed,  with  fear.  Who  ever  heard  of 
such  a  thing  as  this  ?  A  fish  ?  Why,  it  was  as 


HILDEGARDE'S   HOLIDAY.  89 

big  as  a  young  whale !  Only  whales  did  n't 
come  up  rivers,  and  she  had  never  heard  of 
their  jumping  out  of  water  in  this  insane 
way.  Suppose  the  creature  should  take  it 
into  his  head  to  leap  again,  and  should  fall 
into  the  boat  ?  At  this  thought  our  heroine 
began  to  row  as  fast  as  she  could,  taking 
long  strokes,  and  making  the  boat  fairly 
fly  through  the  water  ;  though,  as  she 
said  to  herself,  it  would  not  make  any 
difference,  if  her  enemy  were  swimming  in 
the  same  direction. 

Presently,  however,  she  heard  a  second 
splash  behind  her,  and  turning,  saw  the  huge 
fish  just  disappearing,  at  some  distance  down 
river.  She  recovered  her  composure,  and 
in  a  few  minutes  was  ready  to  laugh  at  her 
own  terrors. 

Homeward  now,  following  the  west  bank, 
as  she  had  gone  down  along  the  east.  This 
side  was  pretty,  too,  though  there  were  no 


90  HILDEGARDE'S   HOLIDAY. 

rocks  nor  ferny  coves.  On  the  contrary,  the 
water  was  quite  shallow,  and  full  of  brown 
weeds,  which  brushed  softly  against  the  boat. 
Not  far  from  the  bank  she  saw  the  highway, 
looking  white  and  dusty,  with  the  afternoon 
sun  lying  on  it.  "  No  dust  on  my  road  !  "  she 
said  exultingly ;  "  and  no  hills  !  "  she  added, 
as  she  saw  a  wagon,  at  some  distance,  climb- 
ing an  almost  perpendicular  ascent.  "  I  won- 
der what  these  water-plants  are!  Rose  would 
know,  of  course." 

Now  came  the  willows  that  she  had  seen 
from  the  window,  —  the  "  margin  willow- 
veiled  "  that  had  reminded  her  of  the  Lady 
of  Shalott.  It  was  pleasant  to  row  under 
them,  letting  the  cool,  fragrant  leaves  brush 
against  her  face.  Here,  too,  were  sweet- 
scented  rushes,  of  which  she  gathered  an 
armful  for  Rose,  who  loved  them  ;  and  in 
this  place  she  made  the  acquaintance  of  a 
magnificent  blue  dragon-fly,  which  alighted 


IITLDEGARDE'S   HOLIDAY.  91 

on  her  oar  as  she  lifted  it  from  the  water, 
and  showed  no  disposition  to  depart.  His 
azure  mail  glittered  in  the  sunlight ;  his 
gauzy  wings,  as  he  furled  and  unfurled 
them  deliberately,  were  like  cobwebs  pow- 
dered with  snow.  He  evidently  expected 
to  be  admired,  and  Hildegarde  could  not 
disappoint  him. 

"  Fair  sir,"  she  said  courteously,  "  I  doubt 
not  that  you  are  the  Lancelot  of  dragon- 
flies.  Your  armor  is  the  finest  I  ever  saw  ; 
doubtless,  it  has  been  polished  by  some  lily 
maid  of  a  white  butterfly,  or  she  might  be 
a  peach-blossom  moth,  —  daintiest  of  all 
winged  creatures.  The  sight  of  you  fills 
my  heart  with  rapture,  and  I  fain  would 
gaze  on  you  for  hours.  Natheless,  fair 
knight,  time  presses,  and  if  you  ivould  re- 
move your  chivalrous  self  from  my  un- 
worthy oar,  —  really  not  .  a  fit  place  for 
your  knighthood, — I  should  get  on  faster." 


92  HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY. 

Sir  Lancelot  deigning  no  attention  to  this 
very  civil  speech,  she  splashed  her  other 
oar  in  the  water,  and  exclaimed,  "  Hi ! " 
sharply,  whereupon  the  gallant  knight 
spread  his  shining  wings  and  departed  in 
wrath. 

And  now  the  boat-house  was  near,  and  the 
beautiful,  beautiful  time  was  over.  Hilde- 
garde  took  two  or  three  quick  strokes,  and 
then  let  the  boat  drift  on  toward  the  wharf, 
while  she  leaned  idly  back  and  trailed  her 
hand  in  the  clear  water.  It  had  been  so 
perfect,  so  lovely,  she  was  very  loath  to  go 
on  shore  again.  But  the  thought  of  Rose 
came, — sweet,  patient  Rose,  wondering  where 
her  Hilda  was;  and  then  she  rowed  quickly 
on,  arid  moored  the  boat,  and  clambered 
lightly  up  the  wharf. 

"  Good-by,  good  boat  !  "  she  cried. 
"  Good-by,  dear  beautiful  river  !  I  shall 
see  you  to-morrow,  the  day  after,  every 


HILDEGARDE'S   HOLIDAY.  93 

other  day  while  I  am  here.  I  have  been 
happy,  happy,  happy  with  you.  Good-by  !  " 
And  with  a  final  wave  of  her  hand,  Hilde- 
garde  ran  lightly  up  the  path  that  led  to 
the  house. 


94  IllLDEGAKDE'S  HOLIDAY. 


CHAPTER   VI. 

A   MORNING   DRIVE. 

PUNCTUALLY  at  ten  o'clock  the  next  morn- 
ing Dr.  Abernethy  stood  before  the  door,  with 
a  neat  phaeton  behind  him  ;  and  the  girls 
were  summoned  from  the  piazza,  where  Rose 
was  taking  her  French  lesson. 

"My  dears,"  said  Miss  Wealthy,  "are  you 
ready?  You  said  ten  o'clock,  and  the  clock 
has  already  struck." 

"  Oh.  yes,  Cousin  Wealthy ! "  cried  Hilde- 
garde,  starting  up,  and  dropping  one  book  on 
the  floor  and  another  on  the  chair.  "We 
are  coming  immediately.  Rose,  HOH*  allom 
faire  tine  promenade  en  voitnre!  Repetez  ceite 
phrase ! " 


HILDEGARDE'S   HOLIDAY.  95 

"  Nous  allony —  '  began  Rose,  meekly  ;  but 
she  was  cut  short  in  her  repetition. 

"  Not  aUmig,  dear,  alluns,  aits.  Keep  your 
mouth  open,  and  don't  let  your  tongue  come 
near  the  roof  of  your  mouth  after  the  //.  Al- 
lans !  Try  once  more." 

"  You  need  not  wait,  Jeremiah."  said  Miss 
Wealthy,  in  a  voice  that  tried  not  to  be 
plaintive.  "  I  dare  say  the  young  ladies  will 
be  ready  in  a  minute  or  two,  and  I  will  stand 
by  the  Doctor  till  they  come." 

Hildegarde  heard,  smote  her  breast,  flew 
upstairs  for  their  hats  and  a  shawl  and  pillow 
for  Rose.  In  three  minutes  they  were  in  the 
carriage,  but  not  till  a  kiss  and  a  whispered 
apology  from  Hildegarde  had  driven  the 
slight  cloud  —  not  of  vexation,  but  of  wonder- 
ing sadness ;  it  seemed  such  a  strange  thing, 
not  to  be  ready  and  waiting  when  Dr. 
Abernethy  came  to  the  door  —  from  Miss 
Wealthy's  kind  face. 


96  HILDEGARDE'S   HOLIDAY. 

"  Good-by,  dear  Cousin  Wealthy  !  "  and 
"  Good-by,  dear  Miss  Bond ! "  cried  the  two 
happy  girls;  and  off  they  drove  in  high 
spirits,  while  Miss  Wealthy  went  back  to  the 
piazza  and  picked  up  the  French  books, 
wiped  them  carefully,  and  then  went  upstairs 
and  put  them  in  the  little  bookcase  in  Hilde- 
garde's  room. 

"  She  is  a  very  dear  girl,"  she  said,  shaking 
her  head ;  "  a  little  heedless,  but  perhaps  all 
girls  are.  Why,  Mildred — oh!  but  Mildred 
was  an  exception.  I  suppose,"  she  added, 
"  they  call  me  an  old  maid.  Very  likely. 

Not  these  girls,  —  for  they  are  too  well-man- 

i 

nered,  —  but  people.  An  old  maid!"  Miss 
Wealthy  sighed  a  little,  and  put  her  hand  up 
to  the  pansy  breastpin,  —  a  favorite  gesture 
of  hers;  and  then  she  went  into  the  house, 
to  make  a  new  set  of  bags  for  the  curtain- 
tassels. 

Meanwhile    the  girls   were    driving   along, 


HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY.  97 

looking  about  them,  and  enjoying  themselves 
immensely.  Jeremiah  had  given  them  direc- 
tions for  a  drive  "just  about  so  long,"  and 
they  knew  that  they  were  to  turn  three 
times  to  the  left  and  never  to  the  right. 
And  first  they  went  up  a  hill,  from  the  top 
of  which  they  saw  "  all  the  kingdoms  of  the 
earth,"  as  Rose  said.  The  river  valley  was 
behind  them,  and  they  could  see  the  silver 
stream  here  and  there,  gleaming  between  its 
wooded  banks.  Beyond  were  blue  hills,  fad- 
ing into  the  blue  of  the  sky.  But  before 
them  —  oh !  before  them  was  the  wonder. 
A  vast  circle,  hill  and  dale  and  meadow, 
all  shut  in  by  black,  solemn  woods ;  and  be- 
yond the  woods,  far,  far  away,  a  range  of 
mountains,  whose  tops  gleamed  white  in  the 
sunlight. 

"  There  is  snow  on  them,"  said  "Rose. 
"  Oh,  Hildegarde !  they  must  be  the  White 
Mountains.  Jeremiah  told  me  that  we  could 

7 


98  HILDEGARDE'S   HOLIDAY. 

see  them  from  here.     That  highest  peak  must 
be  Mount  Washington.     Oh,  to  think  of  it!" 

They  sat  in  silence  for  a  few  moments, 
watching  the  mountains,  which  lay  like 
giants  at  rest. 

"Rose,"  said  Hildegarde,  at  length,  "the 
Great  Carbuncle  is  there,  hidden  in  some 
crevice  of  those  mountains ;  and  the  Great 
Stone  Face  is  there,  and  oh !  so  many  won- 
derful things.  Some  day  we  will  go  there, 
you  and  I ;  sometime  when  you  are  quite, 
quite  strong,  you  know.  And  we  will  see 
the  Flume  and  the  wonderful  Notch.  You 
remember  Hawthorne's  story  of  the  "  Am- 
bitious Guest"?  I  think  it  is  one  of  the 
most  beautiful  of  all.  Perhaps  —  who  knows  ? 
—  we  may  find  the  Great  Carbuncle."  They 
were  silent  again;  but  presently  Dr.  Aber- 
nethy,  who  cared  nothing  whatever  about 
mountains  or  carbuncles,  whinnied,  and  gave 
a  little  impatient  shake. 


HILDEGARDE'S   HOLIDAY.  99 

"  Of  course  !  "  said  Hildegarde.  "  Poor 
dear !  he  was  hot,  was  n't  he  ?  and  the  flies 
bothered  him.  Here  is  our  turn  to  the  left ; 
a  pine-tree  at  the  corner,  —  yes,  this  must 
be  it!  Good-by,  mountains!  Be  sure  to 
stay  there  till  the  next  time  we  come." 

"  What  was  that  little  poem  about  the 
Greek  mountains  that  you  told  rne  the  other 
day?"  asked  Rose,  as  they  drove  along, — 
"  the  one  you  have  copied  in  your  common- 
place book.  You  said  it  was  a  translation 
from  some  modern  Greek  poet,  didn't  you?" 

"Yes,"  said  Hildegarde;  "but  I  don't 
know  what  poet.  I  found  it  in  a  book  of 
Dr.  Felton's  at  home." 

She  thought  a  moment,  and  then  repeated 
the  verses, — 

" '  Why  are  the  mountains  shadowed  o'er  ? 
Why  stand  they  darkened  grimly  ? 
Is  it  a  tempest  warring  there, 
Or  rain-storm  beating  on  them  ? 


100  HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY. 

" '  It  is  no  tempest  warring  there, 
No  rain-storm  beating  on  them, 
But  Charon  sweeping  over  them, 
And  with  him  the  departed.'  " 

"  Look ! "  she  cried,  a  few  moments  after. 
"  There  is  just  such  a  cloud-shadow  sweeping 
over  that  long  hill  on  the  left.  Is  it  true,  I 
wonder?  I  never  see  those  flying  shadows 
without  thinking  of  *  Charon  sweeping  over 
them.'  It  is  such  a  comfort,  Rose,  that  we 
like  the  same  things,  is  n't  it  ?  " 

"  Indeed  it  is  !  "  said  Rose,  heartily.  "  But, 
oh !  Hilda  dear,  stop  a  moment !  There  is 
some  yellow  clover.  Why,  I  had  no  idea 
it  grew  so  far  north  as  this ! " 

"  Yellow  clover  !  "  repeated  Hildegarde, 
looking  about  her.  "  Who  ever  heard  of 
yellow  clover  ?  I  don't  see  any." 

"  No,  dear,"  said  Rose  ;  "  it  does  not  grow 
in  the  sides  of  buggies,  nor  even  on  stone- 
walls. If  you  could  bend  your  lofty  gaze 


HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY.  101 

to  the  ditch  by  the  roadside,  you  might 
possibly  see  it." 

"  Oh,  there !  "  said  Hildegarde,  laughing. 
"  Take  the  reins,  Miss  Impudence,  and  I  will 
get  them."  She  sprang  lightly  out,  and  re- 
turned with  a  handful  of  yellow  blossoms. 

"Are  they  really  clover?"  she  asked,  ex- 
amining them  curiously.  "  I  had  no  idea 
there  were  more  than  two  kinds,  red  and 
white." 

"  There  are  eight  kinds,  child  of  the  city," 
said  Rose,  "  beside  melilot,  which  is  a  kind 
of  clover-cousin.  This  yellow  is  the  hop- 
clover.  Dear  me !  how  it  does  remind  ine 
of  my  Aunt  Caroline." 

"  And  how,  let  me  in  a  spirit  of  love  in- 
quire, does  it  resemble  your  Aunt  Caroline  ? 
Is  she  yellow  ?  " 

u  She  was,  poor  dear  !  "  replied  Rose.  "  She 
has  been  dead  now  —  oh  !  a  long  time.  She 
was  an  aunt  of  Mother's ;  and  once  she  had 


102  HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY. 

the  jaundice,  and  it  seems  to  me  she  was 
always  yellow  after  that.  But  that  was 
not  all,  Hilda.  There  was  an  old  handbook 
of  botany  among  Father's  books,  and  I  used 
to  read  it  a  great  deal,  and  puz/le  over  the 
long  words.  I  always  liked  long  words,  even 
when  I  was  a  little  wee  girl.  Well,  one  day 
I  was  reading,  and  Aunt  Caroline  happened 
to  come  in.  She  despised  reading,  and 
thought  it  was  an  utter  waste  of  time,  and 
that  I  ought  to  sew  or  knit  all  the  time, 
since  I  could  not  help  Mother  with  the 
housework.  She  was  very  practical  herself, 
and  a  famous  housekeeper.  So  she  looked 
at  me,  and  frowned,  and  said,  'Well,  Pink, 
mooning  away  over  a  book  as  usual  ?  Use- 
less rubbish !  yer  ma  'd  ought  to  keep  ye 
at  work.'  I  did  n't  say  anything ;  I  never 
said  much  to  Aunt  Caroline,  because  I  knew 
she  did  n't  like  me,  and  I  suppose  I  was  rather 
spoiled  by  every  one  else  being  too  good  to 


HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY.  103 

me.  But  I  looked  down  at  my  old  bot)k, 
which  was  open  at  '  Trefolium  :  Clover.'  And 
there  I  read  —  oh,  Hilda,  it  is  really  too  bad 
to  tell !  —  I  read :  '  The  teeth  bristle-form '  — 
and  hers  did  stick  out  nearly  straight !  — 
•  corolla  mostly  withering  or  persistent ;  the 
claws '  —  and  then  I  began  to  laugh,  for  it 
was  exactly  like  Aunt  Caroline  herself;  she 
was  so  withering,  and  so  persistent !  And  I 
sat  there  and  giggled,  a  great  girl  of  thir- 
teen, till  I  got  perfectly  hysterical.  The 
more  I  laughed,  the  angrier  she  grew,  of 
course ;  till  at  last  she  went  out  into  the 
kitchen  and  slammed  the  door  after  her. 
But  I  heard  her  telling  Mother  that  that  gal 
of  hers  appeared  to  be  losing  such  wits  as 
she  had,  —  not  that  't  was  any  great  loss, 
as  fur  as  she  could  see.  Wasn't  that  dread- 
ful, Hildegarde  ?  Of  course  I  was  wheeled 
over  to  her  house  the  next  day,  and  begged 
her  pardon ;  but  she  was  still  withering 


104  HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY. 

and  persistent,  though  she  said,  '  Very  ex- 
cusable ! '  at  last." 

"Why,  Rose!"  said  Hildegarde,  laughing. 
"I  didn't  suppose  you  were  ever  naughty, 
even  when  you  were  a  baby." 

"  Oh,  indeed  I  was  !  "  answered  Rose ; 
"just  as  naughty  as  any  one  else,  I  sup- 
pose. Did  I  ever  tell  you  how  I  came  near 
making  poor  Bubble  deaf?  That  wasn't 
exactly  naughty,  because  I  did  n't  mean  to 
do  anything  bad;  but  it  was  funny.  I  must 
have  been  about  five  years  old,  and  I  used 
to  sit  in  a  sort  of  little  chair-cart  that  Father 
made  for  me.  One  day  Mother  was  wash- 
ing, and  she  set  me  down  beside  the  baby's 
cradle  (that  was  Bubble,  of  course),  and  told 
me  to  watch  him,  and  to  call  her  if  he 
cried.  Well,  for  a  while,  Mother  said,  all 
was  quiet.  Then  she  heard  Baby  fret  a 
little,  and  then  came  a  queer  sort  of  noise, 
she  could  not  tell  what,  and  after  that 


HILDEGARDE'S   HOLIDAY.  105 

quiet  again.  So  she  thought  what  a  nice, 
helpful  little  girl  I  was  getting  to  be ; 
and  when  she  came  in  she  said,  '  Well, 
Pinkie,  you  stopped  the  baby's  fretting, 
didn't  you?' 

"'Oh,  yes,  Mother!'  I  said,  as  pleased  as 
possible.  ( I  roared  in  his  ear ! '  You  may 
imagine  how  frightened  Mother  was ;  but 
fortunately  it  did  him  no  harm." 

Here  the  road  dipped  down  into  a  gully, 
and  Dr.  Abernethy  had  to  pick  his  way 
carefully  among  loose  stones.  Presently  the 
stone-walls  gave  place  to  a  most  wonderful 
kind  of  fence,  —  a  kind  that  even  country- 
bred  Rose  had  never  seen  before.  When 
the  great  trees,  the  giants  of  the  old  forest, 
had  been  cut,  and  the  ground  cleared  for 
farm-lands  and  pastures,  their  stumps  had 
been  pulled  up  by  the  roots ;  and  these 
roots,  vast,  many-branched,  twisted  into 
every  imaginable  shape,  were  locked  to- 


106  HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY. 

gether,  standing  edgewise,  and  tossing  their 
naked  arms  in  every  direction. 

"  Oh,  ho\v  wonderful !  "  cried  Hildegarde. 
•'  Look,  Rose !  they  are  like  the  bones 
of  some  great  monster,  —  a  gigantic  cuttle- 
fish, perhaps.  What  huge  trees  they 
must  have  been,  to  have  such  roots  as 
these !  " 

"  Dear,  beautiful  things !  "  sighed  Rose. 
"  If  they  could  only  have  been  left !  Is  n't  it 
strange  to  think  of  people  not  caring  for 
trees,  Hilda?" 

"  Yes  !  "  said  Hilda,  meekly,  and  blushing 
a  little.  "  It  is  strange  now ;  but  before 
last  year,  Rose,  I  don't  believe  I  ever  looked 
at  a  tree." 

"Oh,  before  last  year!"  cried  Rose,  laugh- 
ing. "  There  was  n't  any  '  before  last  year.' 
I  had  never  heard  of  Shelley  before  last 
year.  I  had  never  read  a  ballad,  nor  a 
'Waverley,'  nor  the  k  Newcomes,'  nor  any- 


HILDEGARDF/S    HOLIDAY.  107 

thing.  Let  1s  not  talk  about  the  dark  ages. 
You  love  trees  now,  I  'm  sure." 

"  That  I  do  !  "  said  Hildegarde.  "  The  oak 
best  of  all,  the  elm  next ;  but  I  love  them  all." 

"  The  pine  is  my  favorite,"  said  Rose. 
"  The  great  stately  king,  with  his  broad  arms ; 
it  always  seems  as  if  an  eagle  should  be  sit- 
ting on  one  of  them.  What  was  that  line  you 
told  me  the  other  day  ?  • —  '  The  pine-tree 
spreads  his  dark-green  layers  of  shade.' 
Tennyson,  is  n't  it  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  replied  Hildegarde.  "  But  it  was 
'  Cranford '  that  made  me  think  of  it.  And 
it  is  n't  '  pine-tree,'  after  all.  I  looked,  and 
found  it  was  '  cedar.'  Mr.  Holbrook,  you  re- 
member, —  Miss  Matty's  old  lover,  —  quotes 
it,  when  they  are  taking  tea  with  him. 
Dear  Miss  Matty !  do  you  think  Cousin 
Wealthy  is  the  least  little  bit  like  her, 
Rose?" 

"  Perhaps  !  "  said  Rose,  thoughtfully.      "  I 


108  HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY. 

think —  Oh,  Hilda,  look ! "  she  cried,  breaking 
off  suddenly.  "  What  a  queer  little  house  !  " 

Hildegarde  checked  Dr.  Abernethy,  who 
had  been  trotting  along  quite  briskly,  and 
they  both  looked  curiously  at  the  little  house 
on  their  left,  which  certainly  was  "  queer,"  — 
a  low,  unpaihted  shanty,  gray  with  age,  the 
shingles  rotting  off,  and  moss  growing  in 
the  chinks.  The  small  panes  of  glass  were 
crusted  with  dirt,  and  here  and  there  one 
had  been  broken,  and  replaced  with  brown 
paper.  The  front  yard  was  a  tangle  of  rib- 
bon-grass and  clover;  but  a  tuft  of  strag- 
gling flowers  here  and  there  showed  that  it 
had  once  had  care  and  attention.  There 
was  no  sign  of  life  about  the  place. 

"  Rose !  "  cried  Hildegarde,  stopping  the 
horse  with  a  pull  of  the  reins  ;  "  it  is  a 
deserted  house.  Do  you  know  that  I  have 
never  seen  one  in  my  life?  I  must  posi- 
tively take  a  peep  at  it,  and  see  what  it  is 


HILDEGARDE'S   HOLIDAY.  109 

like  inside.  Take  the  reins^  Bonne  Silene, 
while  I  go  and  reconnoitre  the  position." 
She  jumped  out,  and  making  her  way  as 
best  she  might  through  the  grassy  tangle, 
was  soon  gazing  in  at  one  of  the  windows. 
"  Oh !  "  she  cried,  "  it  is  n't  deserted,  Rose  ! 
At  least — well,  some  one  has  been  here. 
But,  oh,  me !  oh,  me !  What  a  place !  I 
never,  never  dreamed  of  such  a  place.  I  —  " 

"  What  is  the  matter  ?  "  cried  Rose.  "  If 
you  don't  tell  me,  I  shall  jump  out!" 

"  No,  you  won't  !  "  said  Hildegarde. 
"  You  'd  bettej:  not,  Miss  !  but  oh,  dear ! 
who  ever,  ever  dreamed  of  such  a  place  ? 
My  dear,  it  is  the  Abode  of  Dirt.  Squalid 
is  no  word  for  it;  squalor  is  richness  com- 
pared to  this  house.  I  am  looking  —  sit 
still,  Rose  !  —  I  am  looking  into  a  room  about 
as  big  as  a  comfortable  pantry.  There  is  a 
broken  stove  in  it,  and  a  table,  and  a  stool ; 
and  in  the  room  beyond  I  can  see  a  bed,  —  at 


110  HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY.- 

least,  I  suppose  it  is  meant  for  a  bed.  Oh ! 
what  person  can  live  here  ?  " 

"  /  am  coming,  Hilda,"  said  Rose.  "  The 
only  question  is  whether  I  get  out  with  your 
help  or  without." 

"  Obstinate  Thing  !  "  cried  Hildegarde,  fly- 
ing to  her  assistance.  "Well,  it  shall  see  the 
lovely  sight,  so  it  shall.  Carefully,  now ; 
don't  trip  on  these  long  grass-loops.  There  ! 
is  n't  that  a  pretty  place  ?  Now  enjoy  your- 
self, while  I  get  out  the  tie-rein,  and  fasten 
the  good  beast  to  a  tree." 

In  hunting  for  the  tie-rein  under  the  seat 
of  the  carriage,  Hildegarde  discovered  some- 
thing else  which  made  her  utter  an  exclama- 
tion of  surprise.  "  Luncheon  !  "  she  cried. 
"  Rose,  my  dear,  did  you  know  about  this 
basket  ?  Saint  Martha  must  have  put  it  in. 
Turnovers,  Rose  !  sandwiches,  Rose  !  and,  I  de- 
clare, a  bottle  of  milk  and  a  tin  cup.  Were 
ever  two  girls  so  spoiled  as  we  shall  be  ? " 


HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY.  Ill 

"  How  kind !  "  said  Rose.  "  I  am  not  in 
the  least  hungry,  but  I  should  like  a  cup  of 
milk.  Oh,  Hildegarde  !  " 

"  What  now  ?  "  asked  that  young  woman, 
returning  with  the  precious  basket,  and  ap- 
plying her  nose  once  more  to  the  window. 
"  Fresh  horrors  ?  " 

"  My  dear,"  said  Rose,  "  look !  That  is  the 
pantry,  —  that  little  cupboard,  with  the  door 
hanging  by  one  hinge  ;  and  there  is  n't 
anything  in  it  to  eat,  except  three  crackers 
and  an  onion." 

Both  girls  gazed  in  silence  at  the  forlorn 
scene  before  them.  Then  they  looked  at 
each  other.  Hildegarde  gave  an  expressive 
little  shake  to  the  basket.  Rose  smiled  and 
nodded ;  then  they  hugged  each  other  a  lit- 
tle, which  was  a  foolish  way  they  had  when 
they  were  pleased.  Very  cautiously  Hilde- 
garde pushed  the  crazy  door  open,  and  they 
stood  in  the  melancholy  little  hovel.  All  was 


112  HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY. 

even  dirtier  and  more  squalid  than  it  had 
looked  from  outside ;  but  the  girls  did  not 
mind  it  now,  for  they  had  an  idea,  which 
had  come  perhaps  to  both  at  the  same  mo- 
ment. Hilda  looked  about  for  a  broom,  and 
finally  found  the  dilapidated  skeleton  of  one. 
Rose,  realizing  at  once  that  search  for  a  dus- 
ter would  be  fruitless,  pulled  a  double  hand- 
ful of  long  grass  from  the  front  yard,  and 
the  two  laid  about  them,  —  one  vigorously, 
the  other  carefully  and  thoroughly.  Dust  flew 
from  doors  and  windows ;  the  girls  sneezed 
and  coughed,  but  persevered,  till  the  little 
room  at  last  began  to  look  as  if  it  might 
once  have  been  habitable. 

"  Now  you  have  done  enough,  Rosy !  " 
cried  Hildegarde.  "  Sit  down  on  the  door- 
step and  make  a  posy,  while  I  finish." 

Rose,  being  rather  tired,  obeyed.  Hilde- 
garde then  looked  for  a  scrubbing-brush, 
but  finding  none,  was  obliged  to  give  the 


HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY.  113 

little  black  table  such  a  cleaning  as  she  could 
with  the  broom  jtnd  bunches  of  grass.  Be- 
hind the  house  was  a  lilac-bush,  covered 
with  lovely  fragrant  clusters  of  blossoms  ; 
she  gathered  a  huge  bunch  of  them,  and 
putting  them  in  a  broken  pitcher  with  water, 
set  them  in  the  middle  of  the  table.  Mean- 
while Rose  had  found  two  or  three  peonies 
and  some  sweet-william,  and  with  these  and 
some  ribbon-grass  had  made  quite  a  brilliant 
bouquet,  which  was  laid  beside  the  one 
cracked  plate  which  the  cupboard  afforded. 
On  this  plate  the  sandwiches  were  neatly 
piled,  and  the  turnovers  (all  but  two,  which 
the  girls  ate,  partly  out  of  gratitude  to  Mar- 
tha, but  chiefly  because  they  were  good) 
were  laid  on  a  cluster  of  green  leaves.  As 
for  the  milk,  that,  Hildegarde  declared,  Rose 
must  and  should  drink ;  and  she  stood  over 
her  till  she  tilted  the  bottle  back  and  drained 
the  last  drop. 


114  HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY. 

"  Oh,  dear !  "  said  Rose,  looking  sadly  at 
the  empty  bottle ;  "  I  hop§  the  poor  thing 
doesn't  like  milk.  It  couldn't  be  a  child, 
Hildegarde,  could  it?  living  here  all  alone. 
And  anyhow  he  —  or  she  —  will  have  a  better 
dinner  than  one  onion  and  —  "  But  here  she 
broke  off,  and  uttered  a  low  cry  of  dismay. 
«  Oh,  Hilda !  Hilda !  look  there  !  " 

Hildegarde  turned  hastily  round,  and  then 
stood  petriQed  with  dismay  ;  for  some  one 
was  looking  in  at  the  window.  Pressed 
against  the  little  back  window  was  the  face 
of  an  old  man,  so  withered  and  wrinkled  that 
it  looked  hardly  human ;  only  the  eyes, 
bright  and  keen,  were  fixed  upon  the  girls, 
with  what  they  thought  was  a  look  of  anger. 
Masses  of  wild,  unkempt  gray  hair  surrounded 
the  face,  and  a  fragment  of  old  straw  hat 
was  drawn  down  over  the  brows.  Altogether 
it  was  a  wild  vision  ;  and  perhaps  it  was  not 
surprising  that  the  gentle  Rose  was  terrific'l, 


"SOME    ONE    WAS    LOOKING    IN    AT    THE    VVlNDOW 


HILDEGARDE'S   HOLIDAY.  115 

while  even  Hildegarde  felt  decidedly  uncom- 
fortable. They  stood  still  for  a  moment, 
meeting  helplessly  the  steady  gaze  of  the 
sharp,  fierce  eyes ;  then  with  one  impulse 
they  turned  and  fled,  —  Hildegarde  half 
carrying  her  companion  in  her  strong  arms. 
Half  laughing,  half  crying,  they  reached  the 
carriage.  Rose  tumbled  in  somehow,  Hilde- 
garde flew  to  unfasten  the  tie -rein ;  and  the 
next  moment  they  were  speeding  away  at 
quite  a  surprising  rate,  Dr.  Abernethy  having, 
for  the  first  time  in  years,  received  a  smart 
touch  of  the  whip,  which  filled  him  with 
amazement  and  indignation. 

Neither  of  the  girls  spoke  until  at  least 
a  quarter  of  a  mile  lay  between  them 
and  the  scene  of  their  terror;  then,  as 
they  came  to  the  foot  of  a  hill,  Hilde- 
garde checked  the  good  horse  to  a  walk, 
arid  turned  and  looked  at  Rose.  One  look, 
—  and  they  both  broke  into  fits  of  laughter, 


116  HILDEGARDE'S   HOLIDAY. 

and  laughed  and  laughed  as  if  they  never 
would  stop. 

"Oh  !  "  cried  Hildegarde,  wiping  the 
tears  which  were  rolling  down  her  cheeks. 
4-  Rose !  I  wonder  if  I  looked  as  guilty  as  1 
felt.  No  wonder  he  glowered,  if  I  did." 

"  Of  course  you  did,"  said  Rose.  "  You 
were  the  perfect  ideal  of  a  Female  Burgler, 
caught  with  the  spoons  in  her  hand ;  and  I 
—  oh  !  my  cheeks  are  burning  still ;  I  feel  as 
if  I  were  nothing  but  a  blush.  And  after  all, 
we  ivere  breaking  and  entering,  Hilda !  " 

"  But  we  did  no  harm  ! "  said  Hilda,  stoutly. 
"  I  don't  much  care,  now  we  are  safe  out  of 
the  way.  And  I  'in  glad  the  poor  old  glower- 
ing thing  will  have  a  good  dinner  for  once. 
Rose,  he  must  be  at  least  a  hundred !  Did 
you  ever  see  anything  look  so  old  ?  " 

Rose  shook  her  head  meditatively.  "  It 's 
dreadful  to  think  of  his  living  all  alone  there," 
she  said.  "  For  he  must  be  alone.  There 


HILDEGARDE'S   HOLIDAY.  117 

was  only  one  plate,  you  know,  and  that 
wretched  bed.  Oh,  Hilda !  "  she  added,  a 
moment  later,  "  the  basket !  we  have  left 
the  basket  there.  What  shall  we  do  ?  Must 
we  go  back  ?  " 

"Perish  the  thought!"  cried  Hildegarde, 
with  a  shudder  half  real,  half  playful.  "  I 
would  n't  go  back  there  now  for  the  half  of 
rny  kingdom.  Let  me  see !  We  will  not 
tell  Cousin  Wealthy  to-day — " 

"  Oh,  no !  "  cried  Rose,  shrinking  at  the 
bare  thought. 

"  Nor  even  to-morrow,  perhaps,"  continued 
Hildegarde.  "  She  would  be  frightened,  and 
might  expect  you  to  be  ill ;  we  will  wait  a 
day  or  two  before  we  tell  her.  But  Martha 
is  not  nervous.  We  can  tell  her  to-morrow, 
and  say  that  we  will  get  another  basket. 
After  all,  we  were  doing  no  harm,  —  none 
in  the  world." 

But  the  best-laid  plans,  as  we  all  know, 


118  HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY. 

"  gang  aft  agley ; "  and  the  girls  were   not 

• 

to  have  the  telling  of  their  adventure  in  their 
own  way. 

That  evening,  as  they  were  sitting  on  the 
piazza  after  tea,  they  heard  Miss  Wealthy's 
voice,  saying,  "  Martha,  there  is  some  one 
coming  up  the  front  walk,  —  an  aged  man, 
apparently.  Will  you  see  who  it  is,  please  ? 
Perhaps  he  wants  food,  for  I  see  he  has  a 
basket." 

Hildegarde  and  Rose  looked  at  each  other 
in  terror. 

"  Oh,  Hilda  ! "  whispered  Rose,  catching 
her  friend's  hand,  "  it  must  be  he !  What 
shall  we  do?" 

"  Hush  !  "  said  Hildegarde.  "  Listen,  and 
don't  be  a  goose !  Do  ?  what  should  he  do  to 
us  ?  He  might  recite  the  '  Curse  of  Kehama,' 
but  it  is  n't  likely  he  knows  it." 

Martha,  who  had  been  reconnoitring 
through  a  crack  of  the  window-blind,  now 


HILDEGARDE'S   HOLIDAY.  119 

uttered  an  exclamation.  "  Well,  of  all ! 
Mam,  it 's  old  Galusha  Pennypacker,  as  sure 
as  you  stand  there." 

"Is  it  possible  ?  "  said  Miss  Wealthy,  in  a 
tone  of  great  surprise.  "  Martha,  you  must 
be  mistaken.  Galusha  Pennypacker  coining 
here.  Why  should  he  come  here  ?  " 

But  for  once  Martha  was  not  ready  to 
answer  her  mistress,  for  she  had  gone  to 
open  the  door. 

The  girls  listened,  with  clasped  hands  and 
straining  ears. 

"  Why,  Mr.  Pennypacker  !  "  they  heard 
Martha  say.  "  This  is  never  you  ?  " 

Then  a  shrill,  cracked  voice  broke  in, 
speaking  very  slowly,  as  if  speech  were  an 
unaccustomed  effort.  "  Is  there  —  two  gals 
—  here?" 

"  Two  gals  ?  "  repeated  Martha,  in  amaze- 
ment. ''What  two  gals?" 

"  Gals  !  "  said  the  old  man's  voice,  — "  one 


120  HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY. 

on  'em  highty-tighty,  fly-away-lookin',  'n' 
the  other  kind  o'  'pindlin'  ;  drivin'  your  hoss, 
they  was." 

"  Why  —  yes !  "  said  Martha,  more  and 
more  astonished.  "  What  upon  earth  — ' 

"  Here  's  their  basket !  "  the  old  man  con- 
tinued ;  "  tell  'em  I  —  relished  the  victuals. 
Good-day  t'  ye  !  " 

Then  came  the  sound  of  a  stick  on  the 
steps,  and  of  shuffling  feet  on  the  gravel ; 
and  the  next  moment  Miss  Wealthy  and 
Martha  were  gazing  at  the  guilty  girls  with 
faces  of  mute  amazement  and  inquiry  which 
almost  upset  Hildegarde's  composure. 

"  It 's  true,  Cousin  Wealthy  !  "  she  said 
quickly.  "  We  meant  to  tell  you  —  in  a 
little  while,  when  you  would  not  be  worried. 
We  thought  the  house  was  deserted,  and  I 
went  and  looked  in  at  the  window.  And 
—  it  looked  so  wretched,  we  thought  we 
might  —  " 


HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY.  121 

"  There  was  only  an  onion  and  three 
crackers,"  murmured  Rose,  in  deprecating 
parenthesis. 

"  We  thought  we  might  leave  part  of  our 
luncheon,  for  Martha  had  given  us  such  a 
quantity;  and  just  when  we  had  finished, 
we  saw  a  face  at  the  window  —  oh,  such  a 
dreadful  old  face  !  —  and  we  ran  away,  and 
forgot  the  basket.  So  you  see,  Martha,"  she 
added,  "  it  was  partly  your  fault,  for  giving 
us  so  much  luncheon." 

"  I  see !  "  said  Martha,  chuckling,  and 
apparently  much  amused. 

But  Miss  Wealthy  looked  really  frightened. 
"My  dear  girls,"  she  said,  "it  was  a  very  im- 
prudent thing  to  do.  Why,  Galusha  Penny- 
packer  is  half  insane,  people  think.  A  dreadful 
old  miser,  who  lives  in  filth  and  wretchedness, 
while  he  has  plenty  of  money  hidden  away,  — 
at  least  people  say  he  has.  Why,  it  terrifies  me 
to  think  of  your  going  into  that  hovel." 


122  HILDEGARDE'S   HOLIDAY. 

"  Oh !  Cousin  Wealthy,"  said  Hfldegarde, 
soothingly,  "  he  could  n't  have  hurt  us,  poor 
old  thing !  if  he  had  tried.  He  looks  at 
least  a  hundred  years  old.  And  of  course 
we  did  n't  know  he  was  a  miser.  But  surely 
it  will  do  no  harm  for  him  to  have  a  good 
dinner  for  once,  and  Martha's  turnovers 
ought  really  to  have  a  civilizing  effect 
upon  him.  Who  knows  ?  Perhaps  it  may 
make  him  remember  nicer  ways,  and  he 
may  try  to  do  better." 

Miss  Wealthy  was  partly  reconciled  by 
this  view  of  the  case ;  but  she  declared 
that  Rose  must  go  to  bed  at  once,  as  she 
must  be  quite  exhausted. 

At  this  moment  Martha,  who  was  still 
holding  the  basket,  gave  an  exclamation 
of  surprise.  "  Why,"  she  said,  "  there 's 
things  in  this !  Did  you  leave  these  in  the 
basket,  Miss  Hilda?" 

"  I  ?    No !  "     cried    Hildegarde,    wonder- 


HILDEGARDE'S   HOLIDAY.  123 

ing.  "  I  left  nothing  at  all  in  it.  What 
is  there  ?  " 

All  clustered  eagerly  round  Martha,  who 
with  provoking  deliberation  took  out  two 
small  parcels  which  lay  in  the  bottom  of 
the  basket,  and  looked  them  carefully  over 
before  opening  them.  They  were  wrapped 
in  dirty  scraps  of  brown  paper. 

"  Oh !  there  is  writing  on  them  !  "  cried 
Hildegarde.  "  Martha  dear,  do  tell  us  what 
it  says !  ° 

Martha  studied  the  inscriptions  for  some 
minutes,  and  then  read  aloud  :  " l  The  fly- 
away gal '  and  '  the  pail  gal/  Well,  of 
all ! "  she  cried,  "  it 's  presents,  I  do  be- 
lieve. Here,  Miss  Hilda,  this  must  be  for 

you." 

Hildegarde  opened  the  little  parcel  eagerly. 
It  contained  a  small  shagreen  case,  which  in 
its  turn  proved  to  contain  a  pair  of  scissors 
of  antique  and  curious  form,  an  ivory  tab- 


124  HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY. 

let,  yellow  with  age,  a  silver  bodkin,  and  a 
silver  fruit-knife,  all  fitting  neatly  in  their 
places ;  the  whole  case  closing  with  u 
spring.  "  It  is  the  prettiest  thing  I  ever 
saw ! "  cried  Hildegarde.  "  See,  Cousin 
Wealthy,  is  n't  it  delightful  to  think  of 
that  poor  old  dear  —  But  what  have  you, 
Rose-red  ?  You  must  be  the  *  pail  gal,'  of 
course,  though  you  are  not  pale  now." 

Rose  opened  her  parcel,  and  found,  in  a 
tiny  box  of  faded  morocco,  an  ivory  thimble 
exquisitely  carved  with  minute  Chinese  fig- 
ures. It  fitted  her  slender  finger  to  per- 
fection, and  she  gazed  at  it  with  great  de- 
light, while  Miss  Wealthy  and  Martha  shook 
their  heads  in  amazement  and  perplexity. 

"  Galusha  Pennypacker,  with  such  things 
as  these  !  "  cried  one. 

"Galusha  Pennypacker  making  presents!" 
exclaimed  the  other.  "  Well,  wonders  will 
never  cease !  " 


HILDEGARDE'S   HOLIDAY.  125 

"  The  thimble  is  really  beautiful !  "  said 
Miss  Wealthy.  "  He  was  a  seafaring  man 
in  his  youth,  I  remember,  and  he  must  have 
brought  this  home  from  one  of  his  voyages, 
perhaps  fifty  or  sixty  years  ago.  Dear  me! 
how  strangely  things  do  come  about !  But, 
my  dear  Rose,  you  really  must  go  to  bed 
at  once,  for  I  am  sure  you  must  be  quite 
exhausted." 

And  the  delighted  girls  went  off  in  triumph 
with  their  treasures,  to  chatter  in  their  rooms 
as  only  girls  can  chatter. 


126  HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY. 


CHAPTER   VII. 
A  "STORY  EVENING." 

THE  next  evening  was  chilly,  and  instead 
of  sitting  on  the  piazza,  the  girls  were  glad 
to  draw  their  chairs  around  Miss  Wealthy'* 
work-table  and  bring  out  their  work-baskets. 
Hildegarde  had  brought  two  dozen  napkins 
with  'her  to  hem  for  her  mother,  and  Rose 
was  knitting  a  soft  white  cloud,  which  was 
to  be  a  Christmas  present  for  good  Mrs. 
Hartley  at  the  farm.  As  for  Miss  Wealthy, 
she,  as  usual,  was  knitting  gray  stockings 
of  fine  soft  Avool.  They  all  fell  to  talking 
about  old  Galusha  Pennypacker,  now  pitying 
his  misery,  now  wondering  at  the  tales  of 
his  avarice.  Hildegarde  took  out  the  little 


HILDEGARDE'S   HOLIDAY.  127 

scissors-case,  and  examined  it  anew.  "  Do 
you  suppose  this  belonged  to  his  mother  ? " 
she  asked.  "  You  say  he  never  married. 
Or  had  he  a  sister  ?  " 

"  No,  he  had  no  sister,"  replied  Miss 
Wealthy.  "  His  mother  was  a  very  respec- 
table woman.  I  remember  her,  though  she 
died  when  I  was  quite  a  little  girl.  He  had 
an  aunt,  too,  —  a  singular  woman,  who  used 
to  be  very  kind  to  me.  What  is  it,  my 
dear  ? "  For  Hildegarde  had  given  a  little 
cry  of  surprise. 

"  Here  is  a  name  !  "  cried  the  girl.  "  At 
least,  it  looks  like  a  name ;  but  1  cannot 
make  it  out.  See,  Cousin  Wealthy,  on  the 
little  tablet !  Oh,  how  interesting  !  " 

Miss  Wealthy  took  the  tablet,  which  con- 
sisted of  two  thin  leaves  of  ivory,  fitting 
closely  together.  On  the  inside  of  one  leaf 
was  written  in  pencil,  in  a  tremulous  hand, 
"  Ca-ira." 


128  HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY. 

"  Is  it  a  name  ?  "  asked  Rose. 

Miss  Wealthy  nodded.  "  His  aunt's  name," 
she  said,  —  "  Ca-iry l  Pennypacker.  Yes. 
surely ;  this  must  have  belonged  to  her. 
Dear,  dear !  how  strangely  things  come 
about !  Aunt  Ca-iry  we  all  called  her, 
though  she  was  no  connection  of  ours.  And 
to  think  of  your  having  her  scissors-case  ! 
Now  I  come  to  remember,  I  used  to  see 
this  in  her  basket  when  I  used  to  poke 
over  her  things,  as  I  loved  to  do.  Dear, 
dear!" 

"Oh,  Cousin  Wealthy,"  cried  Hildegarde, 
"  do  tell  us  about  her,  please  !  How  came  she 
to  have  such  a  queer  name  ?  I  am  sure 
there  must  be  some  delightful  story  about 
her." 

Miss  Wealthy  considered  a  minute,  then 
she  said  :  "  My  dear,  if  you  will  open  the 
fourth  left-hand  drawer  of  that  chest  between 

1  Pronounced  Kay-iry. 


HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY.  129 

the  windows,  and  look  in  the  farther  right- 
hand  corner  of  the  drawer,  1  think  you  will 
find  a  roll  of  paper  tied  with  a  pink  ribbon." 

Hildegarde  obeyed  in  wondering  silence  ; 
and  Miss  Wealthy,  taking  the  roll,  held  it 
in  her  hand  for  a  moment  without  speaking, 
which  was  very  trying  to  the  girls'  feelings. 
At  last  she  said, — 

"  There  is  an  interesting  story  about  Ca-iry 
Pennypacker,  and,  curiously  enough,  I  have 
it  here,  written  down  by  —  whom  do  you 
think  ?  —  your  mother,  Hilda,  my  dear !  " 

"  My  mother ! "  cried  Hildegarde,  in 
amazement. 

"  Your  mother,"  repeated  Miss  Wealthy. 
"  You  see,  when  Mildred  was  a  harum-scarum 
girl —  Hildegarde  uttered  an  exclamation, 
and  Miss  Wealthy  stopped  short.  "  Is  there 
something  you  want  to  say,  dear  ? "  she  asked 
gently.  "I  will  wait." 

The  girl  blushed  violently.     "I  beg  your 

9 


130  HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY. 

pardon,  Cousin  Wealthy,"  she  said  humbly. 
"Shall  I  go  out  and  stand  in  the  entry? 
Papa  always  used  to  make  me,  when  I 
interrupted." 

"  You  are  rather  too  big  for  that  now,  my 
child,"  said  the  old  lady,  smiling ;  "  and  I 
notice  that  you  very  seldom  interrupt.  It 
is  better  never  done,  however.  Well,  as  I 
was  saying,  your  mother  used  to  make  me 
a  great  many  visits  in  her  school  holidays ; 
for  she  was  my  god-daughter,  and  always 
very,  dear  to  me.  She  was  very  fond  of 
hearing  stories,  and  I  told  her  all  the  old 
tales  I  could  think  of,  —  among  them  this  one 
of  Aunt  Ca-iry's,  which  the  old  lady  had  told 
me  herself  when  I  was  perhaps  ten  years  old. 
It  had  made  a  deep  impression  on  me,  so 
that  I  was  able  to  repeat  it  almost  in  her 
own  words,  in  the  country  talk  she  always 
used.  She  was  not  an  educated  woman,  my 
dear,  but  one  of  sterling  good  sense  and 


HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY.  131 

/ 

strong  character.  Well,  the  story  impressed 
your  mother  so  much  that  she  was  very 
anxious  for  me  to  write  it  down ;  but  as 
I  have  no  gift  whatever  in  that  way,  she 
finally  wrote  it  herself,  taking  it  from  my 
lips,  as  you  may  say,  —  only  changing  my 
name  from  Wealthy  to  Dolly,  —  but  making 
it  appear  as  if  the  old  woman  herself  were 
speaking.  Very  apt  at  that  sort  of  thing 
Mildred  always  was.  And  now,  if  you  like, 
my  dears,  I  will  read  you  the  story." 

If  they  liked  !  Was  there  ever  a  girl  who 
did  not  love  a  story?  Gray  eyes  and  blue 
sparkled  with  anticipation,  and  there  was 
no  further  danger  of  interruption  as  Miss 
Wealthy,  in  her  soft,  clear  voice,  began  to 
read  the  story  of — 

CA-IRY  AND   THE  QUEEN. 

What 's  this  you  've  found  ?  Well,  now  !  well, 
now!  where  did  you  get  that,  little  gal?  Been 
rummagin'  in  Aunt  Ca-iry's  bureau,  hev  you  ? 


132  HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY. 

Naughty  little  gal !  Bring  it  to  me,  honey.  Why, 
that  little  bag,  —  I  would  n't  part  with  it  for  gold ! 
That  was  give  me  by  a  queen,  —  think  o'  that, 
Dolly,  —  by  a  real  live  queen,  'cordin'  to  her  own 
idees,  —  the  Queen  o'  Sheba. 

Tell  you  about  her?  Why,  yes,  I  will.  Bring 
your  little  cheer  here  by  the  fire,  —  so ;  and  get 
your  knittin'.  When  little  gals  come  to  spend  the 
day  with  Aunt  Ca-iry  they  allus  brings  their  knit- 
tin',  —  don't  they  ?  —  'cause  they  know  they  won't 
get  any  story  unless  they  do.  I  can't  have  no  idle 
hands  round  this  kitchen,  'cause  Satan  might  git  in, 
ye  know,  and  find  some  mischief  for  them  to  do. 
There  !  now  we  're  right  comf  table,  and  I  '11  begin. 

You  see,  Dolly,  I  've  lived  alone  most  o'  my  life, 
as  you  may  say.  Mother  died  when  I  was  fifteen, 
and  Father,  he  could  n't  stay  on  without  her,  so  he 
went  the  next  year ;  and  my  brother  was  settled  a 
good  way  off:  so  ever  since  I've  lived  here  in  the 
old  brown  house  alone,  'cept  for  the  time  I  'm 
goin'  to  tell  ye  about,  when  I  had  a  boarder,  and 
a  queer  one  she  was.  Plenty  o'  folks  asked  me  to 
hire  out  with  them,  or  board  with  them,  and  I 
s'pose  I  might  have  married,  if  I  'd  been  that  kind, 
but  I  was  n't.  Never  could  abide  the  thought  of 


HILDEGARDE'S   HOLIDAY.  133 

bavin*  a  man  gormineerin'  over  me,  not  if  he  was 
the  lord  o'  the  land.  And  I  was  strong,  and  had 
a  cow  and  some  fowls,  and  altogether  I  knew 
when  I  was  well  off;  and  after  a  while  folks 
learned  to  let  me  alone.  "  Queer  Ca-iry,"  they 
called  me,  —  in  your  grandfather's  time,  Dolly,  — 
but  now  it 's  "  Aunt  Ca-iry  "  with  the  hull  coun- 
try round,  and  everybody  's  very  good  to  the  old 
woman. 

How  did  I  come  to  have  such  a  funny  name  ? 
Well,  my  father  give  it  to  me.  He  was  a  great 
man  for  readin',  my  father  was,  and  there  was 
one  book  he  could  n't  ever  let  alone,  skurcely. 
'T  was  about  the  French  Revolution,  and  it  told 
how  the  French  people  tried  to  git  up  a  republic 
like  ourn.  But  the}'  had  n't  no  sense,  seemin'ly, 
and  some  of  'em  was  no  better  nor  wild  beasts, 
-with  their  slaughterin',  devourin'  ways;  so  nothin' 
much  came  of  it  in  "the  end  'cept  bloodshed. 

Well,  it  seems  they  had  a  way  of  yellin'  round  the 
streets,  and  shoutin'  and  singin',  "  Ca-ira  !  Ca-ira  !  " 
Made  a  song  out  of  it,  the  book  said,  and  sang  it 
ciay  in  and  day  out.  Father  said  it  meant  "  That 
will  go!"  or  somethin'  like  that,  though  I  never 


134  HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY. 

could  see  any  meanin'  in  it  myself.  Anyhow,  it 
took  Father's  fancy  greatly,  and  when  I  was  born, 
nothin'  would  do  but  I  must  be  christened  Ca-ira. 
So  I  was,  and  so  I  stayed ;  and  I  don't  know  as  I 
should  have  done  any  better  if  I  'd  been  called 
Susan  or  Jerusha.  So  that 's  all  about  the  name, 
and  now  we  '11  come  to  the  story. 

One  day,  when  I  was  about  eighteen  years  old, 
I  was  takin1  a  walk  in  the  woods  with  my  dog 
Bluff.  I  was  very  fond  o'  walkin',  and  so  was 
Bluff,  and  there  was  woods  all  about,  twice  as 
much  as  there  is  now.  It  was  a  fine,  clear  day, 
and  we  wandered  a  long  way,  further  from  home 
than  we  often  went,  'way  down  by  Rollin'  Dam 
Falls.  The  stream  was  full,  and  the  falls  were  a 
pretty  sight ;  and  I  sat  lookin'  at  'em,  as  girls  do, 
and  pullin'  wintergreen  leaves.  I  never  smell  win- 
tergreen  now  without  thinkin'  of  that  day.  All 
of  a  suddent  I  heard  Bluff  bark ;  and  lookin' 
round,  I  saw  him  snuffin'  and  smellin'  about  a 
steep  clay  bank  covered  with  vines  and  brambles. 
"  Woodchuck  !  "  I  thought ;  and  I  called  him  off, 
for  I  never  let  him  kill  critters  unless  they 
were  mischeevous,  which  in  the  wild  woods  they 


HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY.  135 

could  n't  be,  of  course.  But  the  dog  would  n't 
come  off.  He  stayed  there,  sniffin'  an,d  growlin', 
and  at  last  I  went  to  see  what  the  trouble  was. 

My  dear,  when  I  lifted  up  those  vines  and  bram- 
bles, what  should  I  see  but  a  hole  in  the  bank  !  — 
a  hole  about  two  feet  across,  bigger  than  any  that 
a  woodchuck  ever  made.  The  edges  were  rubbed 
smooth,  as  if  the  critter  that  made  it  was  big 
enough  to  fit  pretty  close  in  gettin'  through.  My 
first  idee  was  that  'twas  a  wolf's  den,  —  wolves 
were  seen  sometimes  in  those  days  in  the  Cobbos- 
see  woods,  —  and  I  was  goin'  to  drop  the  vines 
and  slip  off  as  quiet  as  I  could,  when  what  does 
that  dog  do  but  pop  into  the  hole  right  before  my 
eyes,  and  go  wrigglin'  through  it !  I  called  and 
whistled,  but  't  was  no  use  ;  the  dog  was  bound 
to  see  what  was  in  there. 

I  waited  a  minute,  expectin'  to  hear  the  wolf 
growl,  and  thinkin'  my  poor  Bluff  would  be  torn 
to  pieces,  and  yet  I  must  go  off  and  leave  him,  or 
be  treated  the  same  myself.  But,  Dolly,  instead 
of  a  wolfs  growl,  I  heard  next  minute  a  sound  that 
made  me  start  more  'n  the  wolf  would  ha'  done,  — 
the  sound  of  a  human  voice.  Yes!  out  o'  the 


136  HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY. 

bowels  o'  the  earth,  as  you  may  say,  a  voice  was 
cryin'  out,  frightened  and  angry-like ;  and  then 
Bluff  began  to  bark,  bark !  Oh,  dear !  I  felt 
every  which  way,  child.  But  'twas  clear  that 
there  was  only  one  path  of  duty,  and  that  path 
led  through  the  hole ;  for  a  fellow  creature  was 
in  trouble,  and  't  was  my  dog  makin'  the  trouble. 
Down  I  went  on  my  face,  and  through  that  hole  I 
crawled  and  wriggled,  —  don't  ask  me  how,  for  I 
don't  know  to  this  day,  —  thinkin'  of  the  sarpent 
in  the  Bible  all  the  way. 

Suddenly  the  hole  widened,  and  I  found  myself 
in  a  kind  of  cave,  about  five  feet  by  six  across,  but 
high  enough  for  me  to  stand  up.  I  scrambled  to 
my  feet,  and  what  should  I  see  but  a  woman,— 
a  white  woman,  - —  sittin'  on  a  heap  o'  moose  and 
sheep  skins,  and  glarin'  at  me  with  eyes  like  two 
live  coals.  She  had  driven  Bluff  off,  and  he  stood 
growlin'  in  the  corner. 

For  a  minute  we  looked  at  each  other  without 
sayin' anything ;  I  didn't  know  what  upon  airth 
to  say.  At  last  she  spoke,  quite  calm,  in  a  deep, 
strange  voice,  almost  like  a  man's,  but  powerful 
sweet. 

"  What  seek  you,"  she  said,  "  slave  ?  " 


HILDEGARDE'S   HOLIDAY.  137 

Well,  that  was  a  queer  beginnin',  you  see, 
Dolly,  and  didn't  help  me  much.  But  I  man- 
aged to  say,  "  My  dog  come  in,  and  I  followed 
him  —  to  see  what  he  was  barkin'  at." 

"  He  was  barkin'  at  me,"  said  the  woman.  "  Bow 
down  before  nie,  slave !  I  am  the  Queen  !  " 

And  she  made  a  sign  with  her  hand,  so  com- 
mandin'-like  that  I  made  a  bow,  the  best  way  I 
could.  But,  of  course,  I  saw  then  that  the  poor 
creature  was  out  of  her  mind,  and  I  thought 
't  would  be  best  to  humor  her,  seem'  as  I  had 
come  in  without  an  invitation,  as  you  may  say. 

"  Do  you  —  do  you  live  here,  ma'am  ?  "  I  asked, 
very  polite. 

u  Your  Majesty ! "  says  she,  holdin'  up  her  head, 
and  lookin'  at  me  as  if  I  was  dirt  under  her  feet. 

"  Do  you  live  here,  your  Majesty  ? "  I  asked 
again. 

"I  am  stayin'  here,"  she  said.  "I  am  waitin" 
for  the  King,  who  is  comin'  for  me  soon.  You 
did  not  meet  him,  slave,  on  your  way  hither?" 

"  What  king  was  your  Majesty  meanin'  ?  "  says  I. 

"  King  Solomon,  of  course !  "  said  she.  "  For 
what  lesser  king  should  the  Queen  of  Sheba  wait  ?  " 

"To  be  sure!"  says  I.     "No,  ma'am,  —  your 


138  HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY. 

Majesty,  I  mean,  —  I  didn't  meet  King  Solomon. 
I  should  think  you  might  find  a  more  likely  place 
to  wait  for  him  in  than  this  cave.  A  king  wouldn't 
be  very  likely  to  find  his  way  in  here,  would  he  ?  " 

She  looked  round  with  a  proud  kind  o'  look. 
"  The  chamber  is  small,"  she  said,  "  but  richly 
furnished,  —  richly  furnished.  You  may  observe, 
slave,  that  the  walls  are  lined  with  virgin  gold." 

She  waved  her  hand,  and  I  looked  round  too 
at  the  yellow  clay  walls  and  ceilin'.  You  never 
could  think  of  such  a  place,  Dolly,  unless  you  'd 
ha'  seen  it.  However  that  poor  creature  had 
fixed  it  up  so,  no  mortal  will  ever  know,  I  expect. 
There  was  a  fireplace  in  one  corner,  and  a  hole 
in  the  roof  over  it.  I  found  out  arterwards  that 
the  smoke  went  out  through  a  hollow  tree  that 
grew  right  over  the  cave.  There  was  a  fryin'- 
pan,  and  some  meal  in  a  kind  o'  bucket  made  o' 
birch-bark,  some  roots,  and  a  fe\v  apples.  All 
round  the  sides  she  'd  stuck  alder-berries  and 
flowers  and  pine-tassels,  and  I  don't  know  what 
not.  There  was  nothin'  like  a  cheer  or  table, 
nothin'  but  the  heap  o'  skins  she  was  settin'  on, 
—  that  was  bed  and  sofy  and  everything  else 
for  her,  I  reckon. 


HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY.  139 

And  she  herself — oh,  dear!  it  makes  me  want 
to  laugh  and  cry,  both  together,  to  think  hoiv  that 
unfortinit  creature  was  rigged  up.  She  had  a 
sheepskin  over  her  shoulders,  tied  round  her  neck, 
with  the  wool  outside.  On  her  head  was  a  crown 
o'  birch-bark,  cut  into  p'ints  like  the  crowns  in 
pictures,  and  stained  yeller  with  the  yeller  clay, 
-  I  suppose  she  thought  it  was  gold,  —  and  her 
long  black  hair  was  stuck  full  o'  berries  and  leaves 
and  things.  Under  the  sheepskin  she  had  just 
nothin'  but  rags,  —  such  rags  as  you  never  seed 
in  all  your  days,  Dolly,  your  mother  bein'  the 
tidy  body  she  is.  And  moccasins  on  her  feet,  — 
no  stockin's ;  that  finished  her  Majesty's  dress. 
Well,  poor  soul !  and  she  as  proud  and  contented 
as  you  please,  fancyin'  herself  all  gold  and 
di'monds. 

I  made  up  my  mind  pretty  quick  what  was  the 
right  thing  for  me  to  do ;  and  I  said,  as  soothin'  as 
I  could, — 

"  Your  Majesty,  I  don't  reelly  advise  you  to  wait 
here  no  longer  for  King  Solomon.  I  never  seed 
no  kings  round  these  woods,  —  it 's  out  o'  the  line 
o'  kings,  as  you  may  say,  —  and  I  don't  think  be  'd 
be  likely  to  find  you  out,  even  if  he  should  stroll 


140  HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY. 

down  to  take  a  look  at  the  falls,  same  as  I  did. 
Have  n't  you  no  other  —  palace,  that 's  a  little 
more  on  the  travelled  road,  where  he  'd  be  likely 
to  pass?" 

"  No,"  she  said,  kind  o'  mournful,  and  shakin' 
her  head,  —  "no,  slave.  I  had  once,  but  it  was 
taken  from  me." 

"  If  you  don't  mind  my  bein'  so  bold,"  I  said, 
"  where  was  you  stayin'  before  you  come  here  ?  " 

"  With  devils  !  "  she  said,  so  fierce  and  sudden 
that  Bluff  and  I  both  jumped.  "  Speak  not  of 
them,  lest  my  wrath  descend  upon  you." 

This  was  n't  very  encouragin' ;  but  I  was  n't  a 
bit  frightened,  and  I  set  to  work  again,  talkin'  and 
arguin',  and  kind  o'  hintin'  that  there  'd  been  some 
kings  seen  round  the  place  where  I  lived.  That 
were  n't  true,  o'  course,  and  I  knew  I  was  wrong, 
Dolly,  to  mislead  the  poor  creature,  even  if  't  was 
for  her  good ;  but  I  quieted  my  conscience  by 
thinkin'  that  't  was  true  in  one  way,  for  Hezekiah 
King  and  his  nine  children  lived  not  more  'n  a 
mile  from  my  house. 

Well,  to  make  a  long  story  short,  I  e'en  per- 
suaded the  Queen  o'  Sheba  to  come  home  with 
me,  and  stay  at  my  house  till  King  Solomon 


HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY.  141 

turned  up.  She  did  n't  much  relish  the  idee  of 
staying  with  a  slave,  —  as  she  would  have  it  I 
was,  —  but  I  told  her  I  did  n't  work  for  no 
one  but  myself,  and  I  was  n't  no  common  kind 
o'  slave  at  all  ;  so  at  last  she  give  in,  poor  soul, 
and  followed  me  as  meek  as  a  lamb  through  the 
hole,  draggin'  her  big  moose-skin  —  which  was 
her  coronation-robe,  she  said,  and  she  could  n't 
leave  it  behind  —  after  her,  and  Bluff  growlin' 
at  her  heels  like  all  possessed. 

Well,  I  got  her  home,  and  gave  her  some  supper, 
and  set  her  in  a  cheer ;  and  you  never  in  all  3rour 
life  see  any  one  so  pleased.  She  looked,  and  looked, 
and  you  'd  ha'  thought  this  kitchen  was  Marble 
Halls  like  them  in  the  song.  It  did  look  cheerful 
and  pleasant,  but  much  the  same  as  it  does  now, 
after  sixty  years,  little  Dolly.  And  if  you  '11 
believe  it,  it 's  this  very  arm-cheer  as  I  'm 
sittin'  in  now,  that  the  Queen  o'  Sheba  sot  in. 
It  had  a  flowered  chintz  cover  then,  new  and 
bright.  Well,  she  sat  back  at  last,  and  drew  a 
long  breath. 

"  You  have  done  well,  faithful  slave  !  "  she  said. 
"This  is  my  own  palace  that  you  have  brought  me 
to.  I  know  it  well,  —  well ;  and  this  is  my  throne, 


142  HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY. 

from  which  I  shall  judge  the  people  till  the  King 
comes." 

This  is  what  the  boys  would  call  "  rather  cool ; " 
but  I  only  said,  "  Yes,  your  Majesty,  you  shall 
judge  every  one  there  is  to  judge,"  —  which  was 
me  and  Bluff,  and  Crummy  the  cow,  and  ten  fowls, 
and  the  pig.  She  was  just  as  pleasant  and  con- 
descendin'  as  could  be  all  the  evenin',  and  when 
I  put  her  to  bed  in  the  fourposter  in  the  spare 
room,  she  praised  me  again,  and  said  that  when 
the  King  came  she  would  give  me  a  carcanet  of 
rubies,  whatever  that  is. 

Just  as  soon  as  she  was  asleep,  the  first  thing 
that  I  did  was  to  open  the  stove  and  put  her  rags 
in,  piece  by  piece,  till  they  was  all  burnt  up.  The 
moose-skin,  which  was  a  good  one,  I  hung  out  on 
the  line  to  air.  Then  I  brought  out  some  clothes 
of  Mother's  that  I  'd  kep'  laid  away,  —  a  good  calico 
dress  and  some  underclothing,  all  nice  and  fresh,  — 
and  laid  them  over  the  back  of  a  cheer  by  her  bed. 
It  seemed  kind  o'  strange  to  go  to  bed  with  a 
ravin'  lunatic,  as  you  may  say,  in  the  next  room  ; 
but  I  knew  I  was  doin'  right,  and  that  was  all 
there  was  to  it.  The  Lord  would  see  to  the  rest, 
1  thought. 


HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY.  143 

Next  mornin'  I  was  up  bright  and  early,  and 
soon  as  I  'd  made  the  fire  and  tidied  up  and  got 
breakfast  under  way,  I  went  in  to  see  how  her 
Majesty  was.  She  was  wide  awake,  sittin'  up 
in  bed,  and  lookin'  round  her  as  wild  as  a  hawk. 
Seemed  as  if  she  was  just  goin'  to  spring  out  o' 
bed ;  but  when  she  saw  me,  she  quieted  down, 
and  when  I  spoke  easy  and  soothin'  like,  and 
asked  her  how  she  'd  slept,  she  answered  pleasant 
enough. 

"  But  where  are  my  robes  ?  "  said  she,  pointin' 
to  the  clothes  I  'd  laid  out.  "  Those  are  not  my 
robes." 

u  They  's  new  robes,"  I  said,  quite  bold*.  "  The 
old  ones  had  to  be  taken  away,  your  Majesty. 
They  were  n't  fit  for  you  to  wear,  really,  —  all 
but  the  coronation  robe ;  and  that 's  hangin'  on 
the  line,  to  —  to  take  the  wrinkles  out." 

Well,  I  had  a  hard  fight  over  the  clothes ;  she 
could  n't  make  up  her  mind  nohow  to  put  'em  on. 
But  at  last  I  had  an  idee.  "  Don't  you  know,"  I 
said,  "  the  Bible  says  '  The  King's  Daughter  is 
all  radiant  within,  in  raiment  of  wrought  needle- 
work '  ?  Well,  this  is  wrought  needlework,  every 
bit  of  it." 


144  HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY. 

I  showed  her  the  seams  and  the  stitches ;  and, 
my  dear,  she  put  it  on  without  another  word,  and 
was  as  pleased  as  Punch  when  she  was  dressed 
up  all  neat  and  clean.  Then  I  brushed  her  bail- 
out, —  lovely  hair  it  was,  comin'  down  below  her 
knees,  and  thick  enough  for  a  cloak,  but  matted 
and  tangled  so  't  was  a  sight  to  behold,  —  and 
braided  it,  and  put  it  up  on  top  of  her  head  like 
a  sort  o'  crown,  and  I  tell  you  she  looked  like  a 
queen,  if  ever  anybody  did.  She  fretted  a  little 
for  her  birch-bark  crown,  but  I  told  her  how 
Scripture  said  a  woman's  glory  was  her  hair,  and 
that  quieted  her  at  once.  Poor  soul !  she  was  real 
good  and  pious,  and  she  'd  listen  to  Scripture 
readin'  by  the  hour  ;  but  I  allus  had  to  wind  up 
with  somethin'  about  King  Solomon. 

Well,  Dolly,  the  Queen  o'  Sheba  stayed  with 
me  (I  must  make  my  story  short,  Honey,  for  your 
ma  '11  be  comin'  for  ye  soon  now)  three  years  ; 
and  I  will  say  that  they  was  happy  years  for  both 
of  us.  Not  yourself  could  be  more  biddable  than 
that  poor  crazy  Queen  was,  once  she  got  wonted 
to  me  and  the  place.  At  first  she  was  inclined 
to  wander  off,  a-lookiu'  for  the  King  ;  but  bimeby 
she  got  into  the  way  of  occupyin'  herself,  spinnin' 


HILDEGARDE'S   HOLIDAY.  145 

—  she  was  a  beautiful  spinner,  and  when  I  told 
her  'twas  Scriptural,  I  could  hardly  get  her  away 
from  the  wheel  —  and  trimmin'  the  house  up  with 
flowers,  and  playin'  with  Bluff,  for  all  the  world 
like  a  child.  And  in  the  evenin's,  —  well,  there  ! 
she  'd  sit  on  her  throne  and  tell  stories  about  her 
kingdom,  and  her  gold  and  spices,  and  myrrh  and 
frankincense  and  things,  and  all  the  great  things 
she  was  goin'  to  do  for  her  faithful  slave,  —  that 
was  me,  ye  know  ;  she  never  would  call  me  any- 
thing else,  —  till  it  all  seemed  just  as  good  as  true. 
'Twas  true  to  her;  and  if  't  had  been  really  true 
for  me,  I  should  n't  ha'  been  half  so' well  off  as  in 
my  own  sp'ere  ;  so  't  was  all  right. 

My  dear,  my  poor  Queen  might  have  been  with 
me  to  this  day,  if  it  had  n't  been  for  the  med- 
dlesomeness of  men.  I  've  heerd  talk  o'  women 
meddling,  and  very  likely  they  may,  when  they 
live  along  o'  men  ;  but  it  don't  begin  with  wo- 
men, nor  yet  end  with  'em.  One  day  I  'd  been 
out  'tendin'  to  the  cow,  and  as  I  was  comin'  back 
I  heerd  screams  and  shrieks,  and  a  man's  voice 
talkin'  loud.  You  may  believe  I  run,  Dolly,  as 
fast  as  run  I  could  ;  and  when  I  came  to  the 
kitchen  there  was  Hezekiah  King  and  a  strange 

10 


146  HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY. 

man  standin'  and  talkin'  to  the  Queen.  She  was 
all  in  a  heap  behind  the  big  chair,  poor  soul, 
tremblin'  like  a  leaf,  and  her  eyes  glarin'  like 
they  did  the  fust  time  I  see  her  ;  and  she  did  n't 
say  a  word,  only  scream,  like  a  panther  in  a  trap, 
every  minute  or  two. 

I  steps  before  her,  and  "  What 's  this  ?  "  says  I, 
short  enough. 

"  Mornin',  Ca-iry,"  says  Hezekiah,  smilin'  his 
greasy  smile,  that  allus  did  make  me  want  to 
slap  his  face.  "  This  is  Mr.  Clamp,  from  Cop- 
town.  Make  ye  acquainted  with  Miss  Ca-iry 
Pennypacker,  Mr.  Clamp.  I  met  up  with  Mr. 
Clamp  yesterday,  Ca-iry,  and  I  was  tellin'  him 
about  this  demented  creatur  as  you  've  been 
shelterin'  at  your  own  expense  the  last  three 
years,  as  the  hull  neighborhood  says  it 's  a  shame. 
And  lo !  how  myster'ous  is  the  ways  o'  Provi- 
dence !  Mr.  Clamp  is  sup'n'tendent  o'  the  Poor 
Farm  down  to  Coptown,  and  he  says  this  wo- 
man is  a  crazy  pauper  as  he  has  had  in  keer  for 
six  year,  ever  since  she  lost  her  wits  along  o' 
her  husband  bein'  drownded.  She  run  away 
three  year  ago  last  spring,  and  he  ain't  heard 
nothin'  of  her  till  yisterday,  when  he  just  chanced 


HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY.  147 

to  meet  up  with  me.  So  now  he 's  come  as  in 
dooty  bound,  she  belongin'  to  the  deestrick  o' 
Coptown,  to  take  her  off  your  hands,  and  thank 
ye  for  —  " 

He  had  n't  no  time  to  say  more.  I  took  him  by 
the  shoulders,  —  I  was  mortal  strong  in  those  days, 
Dolly  ;  there  wasn't  a  man  within  ten  miles  but  I 
could  ha'  licked  him  if  he  'd  been  wuth  it,  —  and 
shot  him  out  o'  the  door  like  a  sack  o'  flour.  Then 
I  took  the  other  man,  who  was  standin'  with  his 
mouth  open,  for  all  the  world  like  a  codfish,  and 
shot  him  out  arter  him.  He  tumbled  against 
Hezekiah,  and  they  both  went  down  together, 
and  sat  there  and  looked  at  me  with  their  mouths 
open. 

"  You  go  home,"  says  I,  "  and  take  care  o'  your- 
selves, if  you  know  how.  When  I  want  you  or 
the  like  o'  you,  I  '11  send  for  you.  Scat!"  And  I 
shut  the  door  and  bolted  it,  b'ilin'  with  rage,  and 
came  back  to  my  poor  Queen. 

She  was  down  on  the  floor,  all  huddled  up  in  a 
corner,  moanin'  and  moanin',  like  a  dumb  beast  that 
has  a  death  wound.  I  lifted  her  up,  and  tried  to 
soothe  and  quiet  her,  —  she  was  tremblin'  all  over, 
—  but  't  was  hard  work.  Not  a  word  could  I  get 


148  HILDEGARDE'S   HOLIDAY. 

out  of  her  but  "  Devil !  Devil !  "  and  then  "  Solo- 
mon !  "  over  and  over  again.  I  brought  the  Bible, 
and  read  her  about  the  Temple,  and  the  knops  and 
the  flowers,  and  the  purple,  and  the  gold  dishes,  till 
she  was  quiet  again  ;  and  then  I  put  her  to  bed, 
poor  soul !  though  't  was  only  six  o'clock,  and  sat 
and  sang  "  Jerusalem  the  Golden  "  till  she  dropped 
off  to  sleep.  I  was  b'ilin'  mad  still,  and  besides  I 
was  afraid  she  'd  have  a  fit  o'  sickness,  or  turn 
ravin',  after  the  fright,  so  I  did  n't  sleep  much 
myself  that  night.  Towards  mornin',  however,  I 
dropped  off,  and  must  have  slept  sound  ;  for  when 
I  woke  it  was  seven  o'clock,  the  sun  was  up  high, 
the  door  was  swingin'  open,  and  the  Queen  o' 
Sheba  was  gone. 

Don't  ask  me,  little  Dolly,  how  I  felt,  when  I 
found  that  poor  creature  was  nowhere  on  the 
place.  I  knew  where  to  go,  though.  Something 
told  me,  plain  as  words ;  and  Bluff  and  I,  we  made 
a  bee-line  for  the  Rollin'  Dam  woods.  The  dog 
found  her  first.  She  had  tried  to  get  into  her  hole, 
but  the  earth  had  caved  in  over  it ;  so  she  had  laid 
down  beside  it,  on  the  damp  ground,  in  her  night- 
gown. Oh,  dear  !  oh,  dear  !  How  long  she  'd 
been  there,  nobody  will  ever  know.  She  was  in  a 


HILDEGARDE'S   HOLIDAY.  149 

kind  o'  swoon,  and  I  had  to  carry  her  most  o'  the 
way,  however  I  managed  to  do  it ;  but  I  was  mor- 
tal strong  in  those  days,  and  she  was  slight  and 
light,  for  all  her  bein'  tall.  When  I  got  her  home 
and  laid  her  in  her  bed,  I  knowed  she  'd  never 
leave  it ;  and  sure  enough,  before  night  she  was 
in  a  ragin'  fever.  A  week  it  lasted  ;  and  when  it 
began  to  go  down,  her  life  went  with  it.  My  poor 
Queen  !  she  was  real  gentle  when  the  fiery  heat 
was  gone.  She  lay  there  like  a  child,  so  weak  and 
white.  One  night,  when  I'd  been  singin'  to  her  a 
spell,  she  took  this  little  bag  from  her  neck,  where 
she  'd  allus  worn  it,  under  her  clothes,  and  giv'  it 
to  me. 

"Faithful  slave,"  she  said,  —  she  couldn't  speak 
above  a  whisper,  —  "King  Solomon  is  comin'  for  me 
to-night.  I  have  had  a  message  from  him.  I  leave 
you  this  as  a  token  of  my  love  and  gratitude.  It  is 
the  Great  Talisman,  more  precious  than  gold  or 
gems.  Open  it  when  I  am  gone.  And  now,  good 
slave,  kiss  me,  for  I  would  sleep  awhile." 

I  kissed  my  poor  dear,  and  she  dozed  off  peace- 
ful and  happy.  But  all  of  a  sudden  she  opened 
her  eyes  with  a  start,  and  sat  up  in  the  bed. 

"  Solomon  !  "  she  cried,  and  held  out  her  arms 


150  HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY. 

wide.  "  Solomon,  my  King  !  "  and  then  fell  back 
on  the  piller,  dead. 

There,  little  Dolly  !  don't  you  cry,  dear  !  'T  was 
the  best  thing  for  the  poor  thing.  I  opened  the 
bag,  when  it  was  all  over,  and  what  do  you  think 
I  found  ?  A  newspaper  slip,  sayin',  "  Lost  at  sea, 
on  March  2,  18 — ,  Solomon  Marshall,  twenty- 
seven  years,"  and  a  lock  o'  dark-brown  hair. 
Them  was  the  Great  Talisman.  But  if  true  love 
and  faith  can  make  a  thing  holy,  this  poor  little 
bag  is  holy,  and  as  such  I  've  kept  it. 

There  's  your  ma  comin',  Dolly.  Put  on  your 
bonnet,  Honey,  quick!  And  see  here,  dear!  you 
need  n't  tell  her  nothin'  I  said  about  Hezekiah 
King.  I  clean  forgot  he  was  your  grandfather. 


HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY.  151 


CHAPTER   VIII. 

FLOWER-DAY. 

"  COUSIN  WEALTHY,"  said  Hildegarde  at 
breakfast  the  next  morning,  "  may  I  tell  you 
what  it  was  that  made  me  so  rude  as  to  in- 
terrupt you  last  night  ?  " 

"  Certainly,  my  dear,"  said  Miss  Wealthy  ; 
"you  may  tell  me,  and  then  you  may  forget 
the  little  accident,  as  I  had  already  done." 

"  Well,"  said  Hildegarde,  "  you  spoke  of 
the  time  when  Mamma  was  a  '  harum-scarum 
girl ; '  and  the  idea  of  her  ever  having  been 
anything  of  the  sort  was  so  utterly  amazing 
that  —  that  was  why  I  cried  out.  Is  it  possi- 
ble that  Mammy  was  not  always  quiet  and 
blessed  and  peaceful?" 


152  HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY. 

"  Mildred  !  "  exclaimed  Miss  Wealthy. 
"  Mildred  peaceful !  My  dear  Hilda  !  " 

An  impressive  pause  followed,  and  Hilde- 
garde's  eyes  began  to  twinkle.  "  Tell  us  !  " 
she  murmured,  in  a  tone  that  would  have 
persuaded  an  oyster  to  open  his  shell.  Then 
she  stroked  Miss  Weal  thy 's  arm  gently,  and 
was  silent,  for  she  saw  that  speech  was  com- 
ing in  due  time. 

Miss  Wealthy  looked  at  her  teacup,  and 
shook  her  head  slowly,  smiled,  and  then 
sighed.  "  Mildred  !  "  she  said  again.  "  My 
dear,  your  mother  is  now  forty  years  old, 
and  I  am  seventy.  When  she  came  to  visit 
me  for  the  first  time,  /was  forty  years  old, 
and  she  was  ten.  She  had  on,  when  she 
arrived,  a  gray  stuff  frock,  trimmed  with 
many  rows  of  narrow  green  braid,  and  a  little 
gray  straw  bonnet,  with  rows  of  quilled  satin 
ribbon,  green  and  pink."  The  girls  ex- 
changed glances  of  horror  and  amazement  at 


HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY.  153 

the  thought  of  this  headgear,  but  made  no 
sound.  u  I  shall  never  forget  that  bonnet," 
continued  Miss  Wealthy,  pensively,  "  nor 
that  dress.  In  getting  out  of  the  carriage 
her  skirt  caught  on  the  step,  and  part  of  a 
row  of  braid  was  ripped ;  this  made  a  loop, 
in  which  she  caught  her  foot,  and  tumbled 
headlong  to  the  ground.  I  mended  it  in  the 
evening,  after  she  was  in  bed,  as  it  was  the 
frock  she  was  to  wear  every  morning.  My 
dears,  I  mended  that  frock  every  day  for  a 
month.  It  is  the  truth  !  the  braid  caught  on 
everything,  —  on  latches,  on  brambles,  on 
pump-handles,  on  posts,  on  chairs.  There 
was  always  a  loop  of  it  hanging,  and  the 
child  was  always  putting  her  foot  through  it 
and  tumbling  down.  She  never  cried,  though 
sometimes,  when  she  fell  downstairs,  she  must 
have  hurt  herself.  A  very  brave  little  girl 
she  was.  At  last  I  took  all  the  braid  off,  and 
then  things  went  a  little  better." 


154  HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY. 

Miss  Wealthy  paused  to  sip  her  coffee, 
and  Hildegarde  tried  not  to  look  as  it' 
she  begrudged  her  the  sip.  "  Then,"  she 
went  on,  "  Mildred  was  always  running 
away,  —  not  intentionally,  you  understand, 
but  just  going  off  and  forgetting  to  come 
back.  Once  —  dear,  dear  !  it  gives  me  a 
turn  to  think  of  it!  —  she  had  been  reading 
1  Neighbor  Jackwood,'  and  was  much  de- 
lighted with  the  idea  of  the  heroine's  hiding 
in  the  haystack  to  escape  her  cruel  pursuers. 
So  she  went  out  to  the  great  haystack  in 
the  barnyard,  pulled  out  a  quantity  of  hay, 
crept  into  the  hole,  and  found  it  so  comfort- 
able that  she  fell  fast  asleep.  You  may 
imagine,  my  dears,  what  my  feelings  were 
when  dinner-time  came,  and  Mildred  was 
not  to  be  found.  The  house  was  searched 
from  garret  to  cellar.  Martha  and  I  —  Mar- 
tha had  just  come  to  me  then  —  went  down 
to  the  wharf  and  through  the  orchard  and 


HILDEGARDE'S   HOLIDAY.  155 

round  by  the  pasture,  calling  and  calling,  till 
our  throats  were  sore.  At  last,  as  no  trace 
of  the  child  could  be  found,  I  made  up  my 
mind  that  she  must  have  wandered  away 
into  the  woods  and  got  lost.  It  was  a  terrible 
thought,  my  dears !  I  called  Enoch,  the 
man,  and  bade  him  saddle  the  horse  and  ride 
round  to  call  out  the  neighbors,  that  they 
might  all  search  together.  As  he  was  lead- 
ing the  horse  out,  he  noticed  a  quantity  of 
hay  on  the  ground,  and  wondered  how  it 
had  come  there.  Coming  nearer,  he  saw 
the  hole  in  the  stack,  looked  in,  and  —  there 
was  the  child,  fast  asleep ! " 

"Oh!  naughty  little  mother!"  cried  Hil- 
degarde.  "  What  did  you  do  to  her,  Cousin 
Wealthy  ?  " 

"  Nothing,  my  dear,"  replied  the  good 
lady.  "  I  was  quite  ill  for  several  days  from 
the  fright,  and  that  was  enough  punishment 
for  the  poor  child.  She  never  meant  to  be 


156  HILDEGARDE'S   HOLIDAY. 

naughty,  you  know.  But  my  heart  was  in 
my  mouth  all  the  time.  Once,  coining  home 
from  a  walk,  I  heard  a  cheery  little  voice 
crying, '  Cousin  Wealthy !  Cousin  !  see  where  I 
am  ! '  I  looked  up.  Hilda,  she  was  sitting  on 
the  ridge-pole  of  the  house,  waving  her  bon- 
net by  a  loop  of  the  pink  quilled  ribbon,  —  it 
was  almost  as  bad  as  the  green  braid  about 
coming  off,  —  and  smiling  like  a  cherub.  "  I 
came  through  the  skylight,"  she  said,  "  and 
the  air  up  here  is  so  fresh  and  nice  !  I  wish 
you  would  come  up,  Cousin  !  " 

Another  time  —  oh,  that  was  the  worst 
time  of  all !  I  really  thought  I  should  die 
that  time."  Miss  Wealthy  paused,  and  shook 
her  head. 

"Oh,  do  go  on,  dear!  "cried  Hildegarde; 
"  unless  you  are  tired,  that  is.  It  is  so  de- 
lightful !  " 

"It  was  anything  but  delightful  for  me,  my 
dear,  I  can  assure  you,"  rejoined  Miss  Wealthy. 


HILDEGARDE'S   HOLIDAY.  157 

"  This  happened  several  years  later,  when 
Mildred  was  thirteen  or  fourteen.  She  came 
to  me  for  a  winter  visit,  and  I  was  delighted 
to  find  how  womanly  she  had  grown.  We 
had  a  great  deal  of  bad  weather,  and  she  was 
with  me  in  the  house  a  good  deal,  and  was 
most  sweet  and  helpful ;  and  as  I  did  not  go 
out  much,  I  did  not  see  what  she  did  out  of 
doors,  and  she  always  came  home  in  time  for 
dinner  and  tea.  Well,  one  day  —  it  was  in 
March,  and  the  river  was  just  breaking  up, 
as  we  had  had  some  mild  weather  —  the 
minister  came  to  see  me,  and  I  began  to  tell 
him  about  Mildred,  and  how  she  had  devel- 
oped, and  how  much  comfort  I  took  in  her 
womanly  ways.  He  was  sitting  on  the  sofa, 
from  which,  you  know,  one  can  see  the  river 
very  well.  Suddenly  he  said,  "  Dear  me  ! 
what  is  that  ?  Some  one  on  the  river  at  this 
time  !  Very  imprudent !  Very  —  "  Then  he 
broke  off  short,  and  gave  me  a  strange  look. 


158  HILDEGARDE'S   HOLIDAY. 

I  sprang  up  and  went  to  the  window.  What 
did  I  see,  my  dear  girls  ?  The  river  was  full 
of  great  cakes  of  ice,  all  pressed  and  jum- 
bled together;  the  current  was  running  very 
swiftly;  and  there,  in  the  middle  of  the 
river,  jumping  from  one  cake  to  another  like 
a  chamois,  or  some  such  wild  creature,  was 
Mildred  Bond." 

"  Oh  !  "  cried  Rose,  "  how  dreadful !  Dear 
Miss  Bond,  what  did  you  do  ? " 

Hildegarde  was  silent.  It  was  certainly 
very  naughty,  she  thought ;  but  oh,  what 
fun  it  must  have  been ! 

"  Fortunately,"  said  Miss  Wealthy,  "  I  be- 
came quite  faint  at  the  sight.  Fortunately,  I 
say;  for  I  might  have  screamed  and  startled 
the  child,  and  made  her  lose  her  footing.  As  it 
was,  the  minister  went  and  called  Martha,  and 
she,  like  the  sensible  girl  she  is,  simply  blew 
the  dinner-horn  as  loud  as  she  possibly  could. 
It  was  the  middle  of  the  afternoon:  but  as  sho 


HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY.  159 

rightly  conjectured,  the  sound,  without  start- 
ling Mildred,  gave  her  to  understand  that  she 
was  wanted.  The  minister  watched  her  mak- 
ing her  way  to  the  shore,  leaping  the  dark 
spaces  of  rushing  water  between  the  cakes, 
apparently  as  unconcerned  as  if  she  were 
walking  along  the  highway ;  and  when  he 
saw  her  safe  on  shore,  he  was  very  glad  to 
sit  down  and  drink  a  glass  of  the  wine  that 
Martha  had  brought  to  revive  me.  <  My 
dear  madam,'  he  said,  —  I  was  lying  on  the 
sofa  in  dreadful  suspense,  and  could  not  trust 
myself  to  look,  —  '  the  young  lady  is  safe  on 
the  bank,  and  will  be  here  in  a  moment.  I 
fear  she  is  not  so  sedate  as  you  fancied ; 
and  as  she  is  too  old  to  be  spanked  and  put 
to  bed,  I  should  recommend  your  sending 
her  home  by  the  coach  to-morrow  morn- 
ing. That  girl,  madam,  needs  the  curb, 
and  you  have  been  guiding  her  with  the  , 
snnffle.'  He  was  very  fond  of  horses, 


160  HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY. 

good  man,  and  always  drove  a  good  one 
himself." 

"  And  did  you  send  her  home  ? "  asked 
Hildegarde,  anxiously,  thinking  what  a 
dreadful  thing  it  would  be  to  be  sent 
back  in  disgrace. 

"Oh,  no!"  said  Miss  Wealthy,  "I  could 
not  do  that,  of  course.  Mildred  was  my 
god-child,  and  I  loved  her  dearly.  But  she 
was  not  allowed  to  see  me  for  twenty-four 
hours,  and  I  fancy  those  were  very  sad 
hours  for  her.  Dear  Mildred !  that  was 
her  last  prank ;  for  the  next  time  she  came 
here  she  was  a  woman  grown,  and  all  the 
hoyden  ways  had  been  put  off  like  a 
garment.  And  now,  dears,"  added  Miss 
Wealthy,  rising,  "we  must  let  Martha  take 
these  dishes,  or  she  will  be  late  with  her 
work,  and  that  always  distresses  her 
extremely." 

They   went    into    the    parlor,    and    Hilde- 


HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY.  161 

garde,  as  she  patted  and  "  plumped "  the 
cushions  of  the  old  lady's  chair,  reminded 
her  that  she  had  promised  them  some  work 
for  the  morning,  but  had  not  told  them 
what  it  was. 

"  True  !  "  said  Miss  Wealthy.  "  You  are 
right,  dear.  This  is  my  Flower-day.  I  send 
flowers  once  a  week  to  the  sick  children 
in  the  hospital  at  Fairtown,  and  I  thought  you 
might  like  to  pick  them  and  make  up  the 
nosegays." 

"Oh,  how  delightful  that  will  be!"  cried 
Hildegarde.  "And  is  that  what  you  call 
work,  Cousin  Wealthy  ?  I  call  it  play,  and 
the  best  kind.  We  must  go  at  once,  so  as 
to  have  them  all  picked  before  the  sun  is 
hot.  Come,  Rosebud  !  " 

The  girls  put  on  their  broad-brimmed  hats 
and  went  out  into  the  garden,  which  was 
still  cool  and  dewy.  Jeremiah  was  there, 

of   course,   with    his    wheelbarrow ;    and    as 

11 


162  HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY. 

they  stood  looking  about  them,  Martha  ap- 
peared with  a  tray  in  one  hand  and  a  large 
shallow  tin  box  in  the  other.  Waving  the 
tray  as  a  signal  to  the  girls  to  follow,  she 
led  the  way  to  a  shady  corner,  where,  under 
a  drooping  laburnum-tree,  was  a  table  and 
a  rustic  seat.  She  set  the  tray  and  box 
on  the  table,  and  then,  diving  into  her 
capacious  pocket,  produced  a  ball  of  string, 
two  pairs  of  flower-scissors,  and  a  roll  of 
tissue  paper. 

"  There !  "  she  said,  in  a  tone  of  satisfac- 
tion, "I  think  that's  all.  Pretty  work 
you  '11  find  it,  Miss  Hilda,  and  it 's  right 
glad  I  am  to  have  you  do  it;  for  it  is  too 
much  for  Miss  Bond,  stooping  over  the 
beds,  so  it  is.  But  do  it  she  will ;  and  I 
almost  think  she  hardly  liked  to  give  it 
up,  even  to  you." 

"  Indeed,  I  don't  wonder ! "  said  Hilde- 
garde.  "  There  cannot  be  anything  else  so 


PREPARING  FOR  FLOWER-DAY. 


HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY.  168 

pleasant  to  do.  And  thank  you,  Martha, 
for  making  everything  so  comfortable  for 
us.  You  are  a  dear,  as  1  may  have  said 
before." 

Martha  chuckled  and  withdrew,  after  tell- 
ing the  girls  that  the  flowers  must  be  ready 
in  an  hour. 

"Now,  Rose,"  said  Hildegarde,  "you  will 
sit  there  and  arrange  the  pretty  dears  as  I 
bring  them  to  you.  The  question  is  now, 
where  to  begin.  I  never,  in  all  my  life, 
saw  so  many  flowers ! " 

"  Begin  with  those  that  will  not  crush 
easily,"  said  Rose,  "  and  I  will  lay  them 
at  the  bottom.  Some  of  those  splendid 
sweet-williams  over  there,  and  mignonette, 
and  calendula,  and  sweet  alyssum,  and — " 

"Oh,  certainly!"  cried  Hildegarde.  "All 
at  once,  of  course,  picking  with  all  my  hun- 
dred hands  at  the  same  moment.  Could  n't 
you  name  a  few  more,  Miss  ?  " 


164  HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY. 

"I  beg  pardon!"  said  Rose,  laughing. 
"I  will  confine  my  attention  to  the  labur- 
num here.  '  Allee  same/  I  don't  believe 
you  see  that  beautiful  mourning-bride  be- 
hind you." 

"  Why  mourning,  and  why  bride  ?  "  asked 
Hildegarde,  plucking  some  of  the  dark,  rich 
blossoms.  "  It  does  n't  strike  me  as  a  mel- 
ancholy flower." 

"  I  don't  know  !  "  said  Rose.  "  I  used  to 
play  that  she  was  a  princess,  and  so  wore 
crimson  instead  of  black  for  mourning.  She 
is  so  beautiful,  it  is  a  pity  she  has  no  fra- 
grance. She  is  of  the  teasel  family,  you 
know." 

"  Lady  Teazle  ? "  asked  Hildegarde,  laughing. 

"  A  different  branch  !  "  replied  Rose,  "but 
just  as  prickly.  The  fuller's  teasel,  —  do 
you  know  about  it,  dear  ? " 

"  No,  Miss  Encyclopaedia,  I  do  not !  "  re- 
plied Hildegarde,  with  some  asperity.  "  You 


HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY.  165 

know  I  never  know  anything  of  that  kind ; 
tell  me  about  it !  " 

"  Well,  it  is  very  curious,"  said  Rose,  tak- 
ing the  great  bunch  of  mourning-bride  that 
her  friend  handed  her,  and  separating  the 
flowers  daintily.  "  The  flower-heads  of  this 
teasel,  when  they  are  dried,  are  covered  with 
sharp  curved  hooks,  and  are  used  to  raise  the 
nap  on  woollen  cloth.  No  machine  or  instru- 
ment that  can  be  invented  does  it  half  so  well 
as  this  dead  and  withered  blossom.  Is  n't 
that  interesting  ? " 

"  Very  !  "  said  Hildegarde.  "  Oh,  dear  ! 
oh,  dear!  " 

"  What  is  the  matter  ?  "  cried  Rose,  in  alarm. 
"  Has  something  stung  you  ?  Let  me  —  " 

"  Oh,  no  !  "  said  Hildegarde,  quickly.  "  I 
was  only  thinking  of  the  appalling  number  of 
things  there  are  to  know.  They  overwhelm 
me  !  They  bury  me  !  A  mountain  weighs  me 
down,  and  on  its  top  grows  a  —  a  teasel.  Why, 


166  HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY. 

I  never  heard  of  the  thing !  I  am  not  sure 
that  I  am  clear  what  a  fuller  is,  except  that  his 
earth  is  advertised  in  the  Pears'  soap-boxes." 

They  both  laughed  at  this,  and  then  Hilde- 
garde  bent  with  renewed  energy  over  a  bed 
of  feathered  pinks  of  all  shades  of  crimson 
and  rose-color. 

"  A  mountain  !  "  said  Rose,  slowly  and 
thoughtfully,  as  she  laid  the  blossoms  to- 
gether and  tied  them  up  in  small  posies. 
"  Yes,  Hilda,  so  it  is !  but  a  mountain  to 
climb,  not  to  be  buried  under.  To  think  that 
we  can  go  on  climbing,  learning,  all  our 
lives,  and  always  with  higher  and  higher 
peaks  above  us,  soaring  up  and  up,  —  oh,  it 
is  glorious  !  What  might  be  the  matter  with 
you  to-day,  my  lamb  ?."  she  added  ;  for  Hilde- 
garde  groaned,  and  plunged  her  face  into  a 
great  white  lily,  withdrawing  it  to  show  ;i 
nose  powdered  with  virgin  gold.  "Does  your 
head  ache  ?  " 


HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY.  167 

"  I  think  the  sturgeon  is  at  the  bottom  of 
it,"  was  the  reply.  "  I  have  not  yet  recov- 
ered fully  from  the  humiliation  of  having 
been  so  frightened  by  a  sturgeon,  when  I 
had  been  brought  up,  so  to  speak,  on  the 
'  Culprit  Fay.'  I  have  eaten  caviare  too,"  she 
added  gloomily,  —  "  odious  stuff !  " 

"  But,  my  dear  Hilda !  "  cried  Rose,  in 
amused  perplexity,  "  this  is  too  absurd. 
Why  should  n't  one  be  frightened  at  a  mon- 
strous creature  leaping  out  of  the  water  just 
before  one's  nose,  and  how  should  you 
know  he  was  a  sturgeon  ?  You  could  n't 
expect  him  to  say  '  I  am  a  sturgeon  !  '  or  to 
carry  a  placard  hung  round  his  neck,  with 
'  Fresh  Caviare  ! '  on  it."  Hildegarde  laughed. 
"  You  remind  me,"  added  Rose,  "  that  my 
own  ignorance  list  is  getting  pretty  long.  Get 
me  some  sweet-peas,  that's  a  dear;  and  I 
can  ask  you  the  things  while  you  are  picking 
them."  Hildegarde  moved  to  the  long  rows 


168  HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY. 

of  sweet-peas,  which  grew  near  the  laburnum 
bower;  and  Rose  drew  a  little  brown  note- 
book from  her  pocket,  and  laid  it  open  on 
the  table  beside  her.  "  What  is  '  Marlowe's 
mighty  line '  ?  "  she  demanded  bravely.  "  I 
keep  coming  across  the  quotation  in  different 
things,  and  I  don't  know  who  Marlowe  was. 
Yet  you  see  I  am  cheerful." 

"  Kit  Marlowe  !  "  said  Hildegarde.  "  Poor 
Kit!  he  was  a  great  dramatist;  the  next 
greatest  after  Shakspeare,  I  think,  —  at  least, 
•well,  leaving  out  the  Greeks,  you  know.  He 
was  a  year  younger  than  Shakspeare,  and 
died  when  he  was  only  twenty-eight,  killed 
in  a  tavern  brawl.  " 

"  Oh,  how  dreadful ! "  cried  gentle  Rose. 
"  Then  he  had  only  begun  to  write." 

"  Oh,  no  !  "  said  Hildegarde.  "  He  had 
written  a  great  deal,  — '  Faustus  '  and  '  Ed- 
ward II.,'  and  '  Tamburlaine.'  and  —  oh!  I 
don't  know  all.  But  one  thing  of  his  you 


HILDEGARDE'S   HOLIDAY.  169 

know,  <  The  Passionate  Shepherd,'  — '  Come 
live  with  me  and  be  my  love ; '  you  re- 
member? " 

"  Oh  !  "  cried  Rose.  "  Did  he  write  that  ? 
I  love  him,  then." 

"  And  so  many,  many  lovely  things  !  " 
continued  Hildegarde,  warming  to  her  sub- 
ject, and  snipping  sweet-peas  vigorously. 
"  Mamma  has  read  me  a  good  deal  here 
and  there,  —  all  of  *  Edward  II.,'  and  bits  from 
'  Faustus.'  There  is  one  place,  where  he 
sees  Helen  —  oh,  I  must  remember  it !  — 

"  '  Was  this  the  face  that  launched  a  thousand  ships, 
And  burnt  the  topless  towers  of  Ilium  ?  ' 

\ 
Isn't   that   full    of   pictures?     I   see    them! 

I  see  the  ships,  and  the  white,  royal  city, 
and  the  beautiful,  beautiful  face  looking 
down  from  a  tower  window." 

Both  girls  were  silent  a  moment;  then 
Rose  asked  timidly,  "  And  who  spoke  of 


170  HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY. 

the  '  mighty  line,'  dear?  It  must  have  been 
another  great  poet.  Only  three  words,  and 
such  a  roll  and  ring  and  brightness  in  them." 

"  Oh !  Ben  Jonson  !  "  said  Hildegarde. 
"  He  was  another  great  dramatist,  you 
know ;  a  little  younger,  but  of  the  same 
time  with  Shakspeare  and  Marlowe.  He 
lived  to  be  quite  old,  and  he  wrote  a  very 
famous  poem  on  Shakspeare,  (  all  full  of  quo- 
tations,' as  somebody  said  about  '  Hamlet.' 
It  is  in  that  that  he  says  '  Marlowe's 
mighty  line,'  and  '  Sweet  Swan  of  Avon,' 
and  '  Soul  of  the  Age,'  and  all  sorts  of 
pleasant  things.  So  nice  of  him!" 

"  And  —  and  was  he  an  ancestor  of  Dr. 
Samuel's?"  asked  Rose,  humbly. 

"  Why,  darling,  you  are  really  quite  igno- 
rant !  "  cried  Hildegarde,  laughing.  "  How 
delightful  to  find  things  that  you  don't 
know  !  No,  he  had  no  h  in  his  name,  —  at 
least,  it  had  been  left  out ;  but  he  came 


HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY.  171 

originally  from  the  Jolmstones  of  Annandale. 
Think  of  it!  he  may  have  been  a  cousin 
of  Jock  Jolmstone  the  Tinkler,  without 
knowing  it.  Well,  his  father  died  when  he 
was  little,  and  his  mother  married  a  brick- 
layer; and  Ben  used  to  carry  hods  of  mor- 
tar up  ladders,  —  oh  me !  what  a  strange 
world  it  is !  By-and-by  he  was  made 
Laureate,  —  the  first  Laureate,  • —  and  he  was 
very  great  and  glorious,  and  wrote  masques 
and  plays  and  poems,  and  quarrelled  with 
Inigo  Jones  —  no !  I  can't  stop  to  tell 
you  who  he  was,"  seeing  the  question  in 
Rose's  eyes, —  "and  grew  very  fat.  But  when 
he  was  old  they  neglected  him,  poor  dear ! 
and  when  he  died  he  was  buried  standing 
up  straight,  in  Westminster  Abbey ;  and 
his  friend  Jack  Young  paid  a  workman 
eighteenpence  to  carve  on  a  stone  '  0  Rare 
Ben  Jonson ! '  and  there  it  is  to  this  day." 
She  paused  for  breath ;  but  Rose  said  noth- 


172  HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY. 

ing,  seeing  that  more  was  coming.  "  But 
the  best  of  all,"  continued  Hildegarde,  "was 
his  visit  to  Drummond  of  Hawthornden. 
Oh,  Rose,  that  was  so  delightful !  " 

"Tell  me  about  it!"  said  Rose,  softly. 
"  Not  that  I  know  who  he  was  ;  but  his  name 
is  a  poem  in  itself." 

"  Is  n't  it  ?  "  cried  Hildegarde.  "  He  was 
a  poet  too,  a  Scottish  poet,  living  in  a  won- 
derful old  house  —  " 

"  Not  '  caverned  Hawthornden,'  in  *  Lovely 
Rosabelle '  ? "  cried  Rose,  her  eyes  lighting 
up  with  new  interest. 

"Yes!"  replied  Hildegarde,  "just  that. 
Do  you  know  why  it  is  '  caverned '  ?  That 
must  be  another  story.  Remind  me  to  tell 
you  when  we  are  doing  our  hair  to-night. 
But  now  you  must  hear  about  Ben.  Well, 
he  went  on  a  walking  tour  to  Scotland,  and 
one  of  his  first  visits  was  to  William  Drum- 
mond, with  whom  he  had  corresponded  a 


HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY.  173 

good  deal.  Drummond  was  sitting  under 
his  great  sycamore-tree,  waiting  for  him, 
and  at  last  he  saw  a  great  ponderous  figure 
coming  down  the  avenue,  flourishing  a  huge 
walking-stick.  Of  course  he  knew  who  it 
was ;  so  he  went  forward  to  meet  him,  and 
called  out,  '  Welcome,  welcome,  royal  Ben ! ' 
'  Thank  ye,  thank  ye,  Hawthornden  ! '  an- 
swered Jonson  ;  and  then  they  both  laughed 
and  were  friends  at  once." 

"  Hildegarde,  where  do  you  find  all  these 
wonderful   things  ? "    cried    Rose,  in   amaze- 
ment.     "  That    is     delightful,    enchanting. 
And    for    you    to    call     yourself    ignorant ! 
Oh!" 

"There  is  a  life  of  Drummond  at  home," 
said  Hildegarde,  simply.  "  Of  course  one 
reads  lovely  things,  —  there  is  no  merit  in 
that;  and  the  teasel  still  flaunts.  But  I  do 
feel  better.  That  is  just  my  baseness,  to 
be  glad  when  you  don't  know  things,  you 


174  HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY. 

dearest !  But  do  just  look  at  these  sweet- 
peas  !  I  have  picked  all  these,  —  pecks  1 
bushels  !  —  and  there  are  as  many  as  ever. 
Don't  you  think  we  have  enough  flowers, 
Rosy  ?  " 

"I  do  indeed!"  answered  Rose.  " Enough 
for  a  hundred  children  at  least.  Besides,  it 
must  be  time  for  them  to  go.  The  lovely 
things !  Think  of  all  the  pleasure  they  will 
give !  A  sick  child,  and  a  bunch  of  flowers 
like  these  !  "  She  took  up  a  posy  of  velvet 
pansies  and  sweet-peas,  set  round  with 
mignonette,  and  put  it  lovingly  to  her  lips. 
"I  remember  —  "  She  paused,  and  sighed, 
and  then  smiled. 

"  Yes,  dear  !  "  said  Hildegarde,  interroga- 
tively. "  The  house  where  you  were  born  ?  " 

"  One  day  I  was  in  dreadful  pain,"  said 
Rose,  — "  pain  that  seemed  as  if  it  would 
never  end,-  — and  a  little  child  from  a  neigh- 
bor's house  brought  a  bunch  of  Ragged 


HILDEGARDE'S   HOLIDAY.  175 

Robin,  and  laid  it  on  my  pillow,  and  said, 
'  Poor  Pinky  !  make  she  better ! '  I  think 
I  have  never  loved  any  other  flower  quite 
so  much  as  Ragged  Robin,  since  then.  It 
is  the  only  one  I  miss  here.  Do  you  want 
to  hear  the  little  rhyme  I  made  about  it, 
when  I  was  old  enough  ?  " 

Hildegarde  answered  by  sitting  down  on 
the  arm  of  the  rustic  seat,  and  throwing 
her  arm  round  her  friend's  shoulder  in  her 
favorite  fashion.  "  Such  a  pleasant  Rose- 
bud !  "  she  murmured.  "  Tell  now  !  " 

And  Rose  told  about  — 

RAGGED   ROBIN. 

0  Kobin,  ragged  Kobin, 

That  stands  beside  the  door, 
The  sweetheart  of  the  country  child, 
The  flower  of  the  poor, 

1  love  to  see  your  cheery  face, 
Your  straggling  bravery ; 

Than  many  a  stately  garden  bloom 
You  're  dearer  far  to  me. 


1T6  HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY. 

For  you  it  needs  no  sheltered  nook, 

No  well-kept  flower-bed ; 
By  cottage  porch,  by  roadside  ditch, 

You  raise  your  honest  head. 

The  small  hedge-sparrow  knows  you  well, 
The  blackbird  is  your  friend ; 

With  clustering  bees  and  butterflies 
Your  pink-fringed  blossoms  bend. 

0  Kobin,  ragged  Robin, 
The  dearest  flower  that  grows, 

Why  don't  you  patch  your  tattered  cloak  ? 
Why  don't  you  mend  your  hose  ? 

Would  you  not  like  to  prank  it  there 

Within  the  border  bright, 
Among  the  roses  and  the  pinks, 

A  courtly  dame's  delight  ? 

"Ah  no  !  "  says  jolly  Robin, 

"  'T  would  never  do  for  me ; 
The  friend  of  bird  and  butterfly, 

Like  them  I  must  be  free. 

"  The  garden  is  for  stately  folk, 

The  lily  and  the  rose ; 
They  'd  scorn  my  coat  of  ragged  pink, 

Would  flout  my  broken  hose. 


HILDEGARDE'S   HOLIDAY.  177 

"  Then  let  me  bloom  in  wayside  ditch, 

And  by  the  cottage  door, 
The  sweetheart  of  the  country  child, 
The  flower  of  the  poor." 


12 


178  HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

BROKEN   FLOWERS. 

Miss  WEALTHY  was  sitting  on  the  back 
piazza,  crocheting  a  tidy.  The  stitch  was 
a  new  one,  and  quite  complicated,  and  her 
whole  mind  was  bent  upon  it.  "  One,  two, 
purl,  chain,  slip  ;  one,  two,  purl  "  —  when 
suddenly  descended  upon  her  a  whirlwind, 
a  vision  of  sparkling  eyes  and  "  tempestu- 
ous petticoat,"  crying,  "  Please,  Cousin 
Wealthy,  may  I  go  with  Jeremiah?  The 
wagon  is  all  ready.  May  n't  I  go  ?  Oh, 
please  say  '  yes  ' !  " 

Miss  Wealthy  started  so  violently  that  the 
crochet-hook  fell  from  her  hands.  "  My  dear 
Hilda !  "  she  said  plaintively,  "  you  quite 


HILDEGARDE'S   HOLIDAY.  179 

take  my  breath  away.  I  —  really,  my  dear, 
I  don't  know  what  to  say.  Where  do  you 
want  to  go  ?  " 

"  With  Jeremiah,  to  Fairtown,  with  the 
flowers  —  to  see  the  children !"  cried  Hilde- 
garde,  still  too  much  out  of  breath  to  speak 
connectedly,  but  dropping  on  one  knee  be- 
side the  old  lady,  and  stroking  her  soft  hand 
apologetically.  "  He  says  he  will  take  care 
of  me ;  and  Rose  has  a  long  letter  to  write, 
and  I  shall  be  back  in  time  for  dinner. 
Dear,  nice,  pretty,  sweet,  bewitching  Cousin 
Wealthy,  may  I  go?" 

Miss  Wealthy  was  still  bewildered.  "  Why, 
my  dear,"  she  said  hesitatingly.  "  Yes  — 
you  may  go,  certainly  —  if  you  are  quite 
sure  —  " 

But  Hildegarde  waited  for  no  "  ifs."  She 
whirled  upstairs,  flew  out  of  her  pink  ging- 
ham 'and  into  a  sober  dark  blue  one,  ex- 
changed her  garden  hat  for  a  blue  "  sailor," 


180  HILDEGARDE'S   HOLIDAY. 

whirled  downstairs  again,  kissed  Rose  on 
both  cheeks,  dropped  another  kiss  on  Miss 
Weal  thy 's  cap,  and  was  in  the  wagon  and 
out  of  sight  round  the  corner  before  any  one 
with  moderately  deliberate  enunciation  could 
have  said  "  Jack  Robinson." 

Miss  Wealthy  dropped  back  in  her  chair, 
and  drew  a  long,  fluttering  breath.  She 
looked  flushed  and  worried,  and  put  her  hand 
nervously  up  to  the  pansy  brooch.  Seeing 
this,  Rose  came  quietly,  picked  up  the  crochet- 
hook,  and  sat  down  to  admire  the  work,  and 
wonder  if  she  could  learn  the  stitch.  "  Per- 
haps some  time  you  would  show  it  to  me, 
dear  Miss  Bond,"  she  said ;  "  and  now  may 
I  read  you  that  article  on  window-gardening 
that  you  said  you  would  like  to  hear  ?  " 

So  Rose  read,  in  her  low,  even  tones, 
smooth  and  pleasant  as  the  rippling  of 
water ;  and  Miss  Weal  thy 's  brow  grew  calm 
again,  and  the  flush  passed  away,  and  her 


HILDEGARDE'S   HOLIDAY.  181 

thoughts  passed  pleasantly  from  "  one,  two, 
purl,  slip,"  to  gloxinias  and  cyclamen,  and 
back  again ;  till  at  length,  the  day  being 
warm,  she  fell  asleep,  which  was  exactly 
what  the  wily  Rose  meant  her  to  do. 

Meantime  Hildegarde  was  speeding  along 
toward  the  station,  seated  beside  Jeremiah 
in  the  green  wagon,  with  the  box  of  flowers 
stowed  safely  under  the  seat.  She  was  in 
high  spirits,  and  determined  to  enjoy  every 
moment  of  her  "  escapade,"  as  she  called  it. 
Jeremiah  surveyed  her  bright  face  with 
chastened  melancholy. 

"  Reckon  you  're  in  for  a  junket,"  he 
said  kindly.  "  Quite  a  head  o'  steam  you 
carry.  'T  '11  do  ye  good  to  work  it  off 
some." 

"  Yes  !  "  cried  Hildegarde.  "  It  is  a  reg- 
ular frolic,  isn't  it,  Jeremiah  ?  How  beau- 
tiful everything  looks !  What  a  perfection  of 
a  day  it  is ! " 


182  HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY. 

"  Fine  hayin'  weather ! "  Jeremiah  as- 
sented.  "  We  sh'll  begin  to-morrow,  I  cal- 
c'late.  Pleasant,  hayin'  time  is.  Now,  thar  's 
a  field ! "  He  pointed  with  his  whip  to  a 
broad  meadow  all  blue-green  with  waving 
timothy,  and  sighed,  and  shook  his  head. 

"  Is  n't  it  a  good  field  ?  "  asked  Hildegarde, 
innocently. 

"  Best  lot  on  the  place ! "  replied  the 
prophet,  with  melancholy  enthusiasm.  "  Not 
many  lots  like  that  in  this  neighborhood ! 
There  's  a  power  o'  grass  there.  Well, 
sirs !  grass  must  be  cut,  and  hay  must  be 
eat,  —  there 's  no  gainsayin'  that,  — '  in  the 
sweat  o'  thy  brow,'  ye  understand ;  but  still 
there  's  some  enj'yment  in  it." 

Hildegarde  could  not  quite  follow  this  sen- 
tence, which  seemed  to  be  only  half  addressed 
to  her;  so  she  only  nodded  sagely,  and 
turned  her  attention  to  the  ferns  by  the 
roadside. 


HILDEGARDE'S   HOLIDAY.  183 

It  was  less  than  an  hour's  trip  to  Fairtown, 
nor  was  the  walk  long  through  the  pleasant, 
elm-shaded  streets.  The  hospital  was  a  brick 
building,  painted  white,  and  looking  very 
neat  and  trim,  with  its  striped  awnings,  and 
its  flagged  pathway  between  rows  of  box. 
One  saw  that  it  had  been  a  fine  dwelling- 
house  in  its  day,  for  the  wood  of  the  doorway 
was  cunningly  carved,  and  the  brass  knocker 
was  quite  a  work  of  art. 

Jeremiah  knocked  ;  and  when  the  door  was 
opened  by  a  neat  maidservant,  he  brought 
the  box  of  flowers,  and  laid  it  on  a  table  in 
the  hall.  "  Miss  Bond's  niece ! "  he  said, 
with  a  nod  of  explanation  and  introduction. 
"  Thought  she  'd  come  herself ;  like  to  see 
the  young  ones.  I  '11  be  back  for  ye  in  an 
hour,"  he  added  to  Hildegarde,  and  with 
another  nod  departed. 

After  waiting  a  few  minutes  in  a  cool, 
shady  parlor,  where  she  sat  feeling  strange 


184  HILDEGAKDE'S  HOLIDAY. 

and  shy,  and  wishing  she  had  not  come, 
Hildegarde  was  greeted  by  a  sweet-faced 
woman  in  spotless  cap  and  apron,  who  bade 
her  welcome,  and  asked  for  Miss  Bond.  "  It 
is  some  time  since  she  has  been  here !  "  she 
added.  "  We  are  always  so  glad  to  see  her, 
dear  lady.  But  her  kindness  comes  every 
week  in  the  lovely  flowers,  and  the  children 
do  think  so  much  of  them.  Would  you  like 
to  distribute  them  yourself  to-day  ?  A  new 
face  is  always  a  pleasure,  if  it  is  a  kind  one  ; 
and  yours  will  bring  sunshine,  I  am  sure." 

"  Oh,  thank  you  !  "  said  Hildegarde,  shyly. 
"  It  is  just  what  I  wanted,  if  you  really  think 
they  would  like  it." 

Mrs.  Murray,  as  the  matron  was  called, 
seemed  to  have  no  doubt  upon  this  point, 
and  led  the  way  upstairs,  the  servant  fol- 
lowing with  the  flowers.  She  opened  a 
door,  and  led  Hildegarde  into  a  large,  sunny 
room,  with  little  white  beds  all  along  the 


HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY.  185 

wall.  On  every  pillow  lay  a  little  head  ;  and 
many  faces  turned  toward  the  opening  door, 
with  a  look  of  pleasure  at  meeting  the  ma- 
tron's cheery  smile.  Hildegarde  opened  her 
great  box,  and  taking  up  three  or  four 
bouquets,  moved  forward  hesitatingly.  This 
was  something  new  to  her.  She  had  visited 
girls  of  her  own  age  or  more,  in  the  New 
York  hospitals,  but  she  was  not  used  to  little 
children,  being  herself  an  only  child.  In  the 
first  cot  lay  a  little  girl,  a  mite  of  five  years, 
with  a  pale  patient  face.  She  could  not 
move  her  hands,  but  she  turned  her  face 
toward  the  bunch  of  sweet-peas  that  Hilde- 
garde laid  on  the  pillow,  and  murmured, 
"Pitty!  pitty!" 

"Aren't  they  sweet?"  said  Hildegarde. 
"  Do  you  see  that  they  have  little  wings, 
almost  like  butterflies  ?  When  the  wind 
blows,  they  flutter  about,  and  seem  to  be 
alive,  almost." 


186  HILDEGARDE'S   HOLIDAY. 

The  child  smiled,  and  put  her  lips  to  the 
cool  fragrant  blossoms.  "  Kiss  butterfies !  " 
she  said  ;  and  at  this  Hildegarde  kissed  her, 
and  went  on  to  the  next  crib. 

Here  lay  a  child  of  seven,  her  sweet  blue 
eyes  heavy  with  fever,  her  cheeks  flushed 
and  burning.  She  stretched  out  her  hands 
toward  the  flowers,  and  said,  "  White  ones ! 
give  me  white  ones,  Lady !  Red  ones 
is  hot !  Minnie  is  too  hot.  White  ones 
is  cold." 

A  nurse  stood  beside  the  crib,  and  Hilde- 
garde looked  to  her  for  permission,  then 
filled  -the  little  hands  with  sweet  alyssum 
and  white  roses. 

"  The  roses  were  all  covered  with  dew 
when  I  picked  them,"  she  said  softly.  "  See, 
dear,  they  are  still  cool  and  fresh."  And  she 
laid  them  against  the  burning  cheek.  "  There 
was  a  great  bed  of  roses  in  a  lovely  garden. 
and  while  I  was  at  one  end  of  it,  a  little 


HILDEGARDE'S   HOLIDAY.  187 

humming-bird  came  to  the  other,  and  hovered 
about,  and  put  his  bill  into  the  flowers.  His 
head  was  bright  green,  like  the  leaves,  and 
his  throat  was  ruby-red,  and  — ' 

"  Guess  that 's  a  lie,  ain't  it  ? "  asked  the 
child,  wearily. 

"  Oh,  no  !  "  said  Hildegarde,  smiling.  "  It 
is  all  true,  every  word.  When  you  are 
better,  I  will  send  you  a  picture  of  a  hum- 
ming-bird." 

She  nodded  kindly,  and  moved  on,  to  give 
red  roses  to  a  bright  little  tot  in  a  red  flannel 
dressing-gown,  who  was  sitting  up  in  bed, 
nursing  a  rubber  elephant.  He  took  the 
roses  and  said,  "Sanks!"  very  politely,  then 
held  them  to  his  pet's  gray  proboscis.  "  I 's  . 
better,"  he  explained,  with  some  condescen- 
sion. "  I  don't  need  'em,  but  Nelephant 
doos.  He's  a  severe  case.  Doctor  said  so 


vis  mornin'.' 


"  Indeed  !  "    said   Hildegarde,  sympathetic 


188  HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY. 

cally.  "  I  am  very  sorry.  What  is  the 
matter  with  him  ?  " 

"  Mumps  'n'  ague  'n'  brown  kitties  'n' 
ammonia  'n'  fits !  "  was  the  prompt  reply ; 
"  and  a  hole  in  his  leg  too !  Feel  his 
pult!" 

He  held  up  a  gray  leg,  which  Hildegarde 
examined  gravely.  "  It  seems  to  be  hol- 
low," she  said.  "  Did  the  doctor  think  that 
was  a  bad  sign  ?  " 

"  It 's  fits,"  said  the  child,  "  or  a  brown 
kitty,  —  I  don't  know  which.  Is  you  a 
nurse  ?  " 

"  No,  dear,"  said  Hildegarde  ;  "  I  only 
came  to  bring  the  flowers.  I  must  go  away 
soon,  but  I  shall  think  of  you  and  the  ele- 
phant, and  I  hope  he  will  be  better  soon." 

"  Sing ! "  was  the  unexpected  reply,  in  a 
tone  of  positive  command. 

"  Benny ! "  said  Mrs.  Murray,  who  came 
up  at  this  moment  j  "  you  must  n't  tease  the 


'  FEEL  HIS  PULT,'  SAID  BENNY." 


HILDEGARDE'S   HOLIDAY.  189 

young  lady,  dear.  See  !  the  other  children 
are  waiting  for  their  flowers,  and  you  have 
these  lovely  roses." 

"  She  looks  singy  !  "  persisted  Benny.  "  I 
wants  her  to  sing.  Doctor  said  I  could  have 
what  I  wanted,  and  I  wants  vat? 

"  May  I  sing  to  him  ?  "  asked  Hildegarde, 
in  a  low  tone.  "  I  can  sing  a  little,  if  it 
would  not  disturb  the  others." 

But  Mrs.  Murray  thought  the  others  would 
like  it  very  much.  So  Hildegarde  first  gave 
posies  to  all  the  other  children  in  the  room, 
and  then  came  back  and  sat  down  on  Benny's 
bed,  and  sang,  "  Up  the  airy  mountain,"  in  a 
very  sweet,  clear  voice.  Several  little  ones 
had  been  tossing  about  in  feverish  restless- 
ness, but  now  they  lay  still  and  listened  ;  and 
when  the  song  was  over,  a  hoarse  voice  from 
a  corner  of  the  room  cried,  "  More !  more 
sing !  " 

"  She 's  my  more  !  she  is  n't  your  more  ! " 


190  HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY. 

cried  Benny,  sitting  erect,  with  flashing 
eyes  that  glared  across  the  room  at  the  of- 
fender. But  a  soft  hand  held  a  cup  of 
milk  to  his  lips,  and  laid  him  back  on 
the  pillow ;  and  the  nurse  motioned  to 
Hildegarde  to  go  on. 

Then  she  sang,  "  Ring,  ting !  I  wish  I  were 
a  primrose ; "  and  then  another  of  dear  Wil- 
liam Allingham's,  which  had  been  her  own 
pet  song  when  she  was  Benny's  age. 

" '  Oh,  birdie,  birdie,  will  you,  pet  ? 
Summer  is  far  and  far  away  yet. 
You  '11  get  silken  coats  and  a  velvet  bed, 
And  a  pillow  of  satin  for  your  head.' 

"  'I  'd  rather  sleep  in  the  ivy  wall ! 
No  rain  comes  through,  though  I  hear  it  fall. 
The  sun  peeps  gay  at  dawn  of  day, 
And  I  sing  and  wing  away,  away.' 

"  *  Oh,  birdie,  birdie,  will  you,  pet  ? 
Diamond  stones,  and  amber  and  jet, 
I  '11  string  in  a  necklace  fair  and  fine, 
To  please  this  pretty  bird  of  mine.' 


HILDEGARDE'S   HOLIDAY.  191 

" '  Oh,  thanks  for  diamonds  and  thanks  for  jet, 
But  here  is  something  daintier  yet. 
A  feather  necklace  round  and  round, 
That  I  would  not  sell  for  a  thousand  pound/ 

" '  Oh,  birdie,  birdie,  won't  you,  pet  ? 
I  '11  buy  you  a  dish  of  silver  fret ; 
A  golden  cup  and  an  ivory  seat, 
And  carpets  soft  beneath  your  feet.' 

" '  Can  running  water  be  drunk  from  gold  ? 
Can  a  silver  dish  the  forest  hold  ? 
A  rocking  twig  is  the  finest  chair, 
And  the  softest  paths  lie  through  the  air. 
Farewell,  farewell  to  my  lady  fair  ! '  " 

By  the  time  the  song  was  finished,  Benny 
was  sleeping  quietly,  and  the  nurse  thanked 
Hildegarde  for  "  getting  him  off  so  cleverly. 
He  needed  a  nap,"  she  said ;  "  and  if  he 
thinks  we  want  him  to  go  to  sleep,  he  sets 
all  his  little  strength  against  it.  He  's  get- 
ting better,  the  lamb  !  " 

"  What  has  been  the  matter  ? "  asked 
Hildegarde. 


192  HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY. 

"  Pneumonia,"  was  the  reply.  "  He  has 
come  out  of  it  very  well,  but  I  dread  the 
day  when  he  must  go  'home  to  a  busy,  care- 
less mother  and  a  draughty  cottage.  He 
ought  to  have  a  couple  of  weeks  in  the 
country." 

At  this  moment  the  head  nurse  —  a  tall, 
slender  woman  with  a  beautiful  face  —  came 
from  an  inner  room,  the  door  of  which  had 
been  standing  ajar.  She  held  out  her  hand 
to  Hildegarde,  and  the  girl  saw  that  her  eyes 
were  full  of  tears.  "  Thank  you,"  she  said, 
"for  the  song.  Another  little  bird  has  just 
flown  away  from  earth,  and  he  went  smiling, 
when  he  heard  you  sing.  Have  you  any 
sweet  little  flowers,  pink  and  white  ?  " 

The  quick  tears  sprang  to  Hilda's  eyes. 
She  could  not  speak  for  a  moment,  but  she 
lifted  some  lovely  sprays  of  blush  rosebuds, 
which  the  nurse  took  with  a  smile  and  a  look 
of  thanks.  The  girl's  eyes  followed  her  ;  and 


HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY.  193 

before  the  door  closed  she  caught  a  glimpse 
of  a  little  still  form,  and  a  cloud  of  fair  curls, 
and  a  tiny  waxen  hand.  Hildegarde  buried 
her  face  in  her  hands  and  sobbed  ;  while 
Benny's  gentle  nurse  smoothed  her  hair,  and 
spoke  softly  and  soothingly.  This  was  what 
she  had  called  a  "frolic,"  —  this!  She  had 
laughed,  and  come  away  as  if  to  some  gay 
party,  and  now  a  little  child  had  died  almost 
close  beside  her.  Hildegarde  had  never  been 
so  near  death  before.  The  world  seemed 
very  dark  to  her,  as  she  turned  away,  and 
followed  Mrs.  Murray  into  another  room, 
where  the  convalescent  children  were  at 
play.  Here,  as  she  took  the  remaining 
flowers  from  the  box,  little  boys  and  girls 
came  crowding  about  her,  some  on  crutches, 
some  with  slings  and  bandages,  some  only 
pale  and  hollow-eyed ;  but  all  had  a  look  of 
"  getting  well,"  and  all  were  eager  for  the 
flowers.  The  easiest  thing  seemed  to  be 

13 


194  HILDEGARDE'S   HOLIDAY. 

to  sit  down  on  the  floor;  so  down  plumped 
Hildegarde,  and  down  plumped  the  children 
beside  her.  Looking  into  the  little  pallid 
faces,  her  heart  grew  lighter,  though  even 
this  was  sad  enough.  But  she  smiled,  and 
pelted  the  children  with  bouquets  ;  and  then 
followed  much  feeble  laughter,  and  clutching, 
and  tumbling  about,  while  the  good  matron 
looked  on  well  pleased. 

"  What 's  them  ?  "  asked  one  tiny  boy, 
holding  up  his  bunch. 

"  Those  are  pansies  !  "  answered  Hilde- 
garde. "  There  are  little  faces  in  them,  do 
you  see  ?  They  smile  when  the  sun  shines, 
and  when  children  are  good." 

"Nein,"  said  a  small  voice  from  the  outr 
side  of  the  circle,  l<  dat  iss  Stiefmutterlein  !  " 

"  Du  Bliimlein  fein ! "  cried  Hildegarde. 
"  Yes,  to  be  sure.  Come  here,  little  German 
boy,  and  we  will  tell  the  others  about  the 
pretty  German  name." 


HILDEGARDE'S   HOLIDAY.  195 

A  roly-poly  lad  of  six,  with  flaxen  hair  and 
bright  blue  eyes,  came  forward  shyly,  and 
after  some  persuasion  was  induced  to  sit 
down  in  Hildegarde's  lap.  "  See  now  !  "  she 
said  to  the  others ;  "  this  pansy  has  a  different 
name  in  Germany,  where  this  boy  —  " 

"  Namens  Fritzerl !  "  murmured  the  urchin, 
nestling  closer  to  the  wonderful  Fraulein  who 
knew  German. 

"  Where  Fritzerl  came  from.  There  they 
call  it  *  Stiefmutterlein,'  which  means  '  little 
stepmother.'  Shall  I  tell  you  why  ?  See  ! 
In  front  here  are  three  petals  just  alike,  with 
the  same  colors  and  the  same  marking.  These 
are  the  stepmother  and  her  own  two  daugh- 
ters ;  and  here,  behind,  are  the  two  step- 
daughters, standing  in  the  background,  but 
keeping  close  together  like  loving  sisters.  I 
hope  the  little  stepmother  is  kind  to  them, 
don't  you?" 

"  I  've   got   one !  "  piped  up   a  little   girl 


196  HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY. 

« 
with   a   crutch.     "  She 's   real    good,  she    is. 

Only  she  washes  my  face  'most  all  day  long, 
'cause  she  's  'feared  she  won't  do  her  duty 
by  me.  She  brought  me  red  jelly  yester- 
day, and  a  noil-cloth  bib,  so  's  I  would  n't 
spill  it  on  my  dress.  My  dress  's  new ! " 
she  added,  edging  up  to  Hildegarde,  and 
holding  up  a  red  merino  skirt  with  orange 
spots. 

"  I  see  it  is,"  said  Hilda,  admiringly ; 
"  and  so  bright  and  warm,  is  n't  it  ? " 

"  I  've  got  a  grandma  to  home  !  "  cried 
another  shrill  voice.  "  She  makes  splendid 
mittens !  She  makes  cookies  too." 

"  My  Uncle  Jim 's  got  a  wooden  leg  !  " 
chimed  in  another.  "  He  got  it  falling  off 
a  mast.  He  kin  drive  tacks  with  it,  he 
kin.  When  I  'm  big  I  'm  going  to  fall  off 
a  mast  and  git  a  wooden  leg.  You  kin 
make  lots  o'  noise  witli  it." 

"  My   grandma 's   got   a   wig !  "    said    the 


HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY.  197 

former  speaker,  in  triumph.  "  I  pulled  it 
off  one  day.  She  was  just  like  an  aig  on 
top.  Are  you  like  an  aig  on  top  ? " 

Here  followed  a  gentle  pull  at  one  of 
Hildegarde's  smooth  braids,  and  she  sprang 
tip,  feeling  quite  sure  that  her  hair  would 
stay  on,  but  not  caring  to  have  it  tumbling 
on  her  shoulders.  "  I  think  it  is  nearly 
time  for  me  to  go  now,"  she  was  begin- 
ning, when  she  heard  a  tiny  sob,  and  look- 
ing down,  saw  a  very  small  creature  looking 
up  at  her  with  round  blue  eyes  full  of 
tears.  "  Why,  darling,  what  is  the  mat- 
ter?" she  asked,  stooping,  and  lifting  the 
baby  in  her  strong  young  arms. 

"I  —  wanted  —  "    Here  came  another  sob. 

"  What  did  you  want  ?  Come,  we  '11  sit 
here  by  the  window,  and  you  shall  tell  me 
all  about  it." 

"  Ze'  uzzers  told  you  sings,  and  —  I  — 
wanted  —  to  tell  you  sings  —  too  !  " 


198  HILDEGARDE'S   HOLIDAY. 

"Well,  pet!  "  said  Hildegarde,  drying  the 
tears,  and  kissing  the  round  velvet  cheek, 
"tell  me  then!" 

"  Ain't  got  no  —  sings  —  to  tell !  "  And 
another  outburst  threatened  ;  but  Hilda  in- 
tervened hastily. 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  am  sure  you  have  things  to 
tell,  lots  of  things;  only  you  could'n't  think 
of  them  for  a  minute.  What  did  you  have 
for  breakfast  this  morning  ?  " 

Baby  looked  doubtful.  "  Dat  ain't  a 
sing ! " 

"  Yes,  it  is,"  said  Hildegarde,  boldly. 
"  Come,  now !  I  had  a  mutton  chop.  What 
did  you  have  ?  " 

"  Beef  tea,"  was  the  reply,  with  a 
brightening  look  of  retrospective  cheer, 
"  and  toasty  strips  !  " 

"  Oh,  how  good  ! "  cried  Hilda.  "  I  wish 
I  had  some.  And  what  are  you  going  to 
have  for  dinner  ?  " 


HILDEGARDE'S   HOLIDAY.  199 

"  Woast  tsicken  !  "  and  here  at  last  came 
a  smile,  which  broadened  into  a  laugh  and 
ended  in  a  chuckle,  as  Hilda  performed  a 
pantomime  expressing  rapture. 

"  I  never  heard  of  anything  so  good  ! " 
she  cried.  "  And  what  are  you  going  to 
eat  it  with,  —  two  little  sticks?" 

"  No-o !  "  cried  Baby,  with  a  disdainful 
laugh.  "  Wiz  a  worky,  a  weal  worky." 

"  A  walk  !  "    said  Hildegarde,  puzzled. 

"  Es !  "  said  Baby,  proudly.  "  A  atta 
worky,  dess  like  people's !  " 

"  Please,  he  means  fork  !  "  said  a  little 
girl,  sidling  up  with  a  finger  in  her  mouth. 
"  Please,  he  's  my  brother,  and  we  've  both 
had  tripod  fever ;  and  we  're  going  home 
to-morrow." 

"  And  the  young  lady  must  go  home 
now"  said  Mrs.  Murray,  laying  a  kind 
hand  on  the  little  one's  shoulder.  "  The 
man  has  come  for  you,  Miss  Grahame,  and 


200  HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY. 

I  don't  know  how  to  thank  you  enough  for 
all  the  pleasure  you  have  given  these  dear 
children." 

"  Oh,  no  !  "  cried  Hildegarde.  "  Please 
don't!  It  is  I  who  must  thank  you  and  the 
children  and  all.  I  wish  Rose  —  I  wish  my 
friend  had  come.  She  would  have  known; 
she  would  have  said  just  the  right  thing  to 
each  one.  Next  time  I  shall  bring  her." 

But  "  Nein  !  Mussen  selbst  kommen  !  " 
cried  Fritzerl  ;  and  "  You  come,  Lady  ! 
shouted  all  the  others.  And  as  Hildegarde 
passed  back  through  the  long  room  where 
the  sick  children  lay,  Benny  woke  from 
his  nap,  and  shouted,  "Sing-girl!  my  sing- 
girl  !  come  back  soon  !  " 

So,  half  laughing  and  half  crying,  Hilde- 
garde passed  out,  her  heart  very  full  of 
painful  pleasure. 


HILDEGARDE'S   HOLIDAY.  201 


CHAPTER  X. 

THE    HOUSE   IN   THE    WOOD. 

ROSE  was  wonderfully  better.  Every  day 
in  the  clear,  bracing  air  of  By  wood  seemed 
to  bring  fresh  vigor  to  her  frame,  fresh  color 
to  her  cheeks.  She  began  to  take  regular 
walks,  instead  of  strolling  a  little  way,  leaning 
on  her  friend's  stronger  arm.  Together  the 
girls  explored  all  the  pleasant  places  of  the 
neighborhood,  which  were  many ;  hunted  for 
rare  ferns,  with  tin  plant-boxes  hanging  from 
their  belts,  or  stalked  the  lonely  cardinal- 
flower,  as  it  nodded  over  some  woodland 
brook.  Often  they  took  the  little  boat,  and 
made  long  expeditions  down  the  pleasant 
river,  —  Hildegarde  rowing,  Rose  couched  at 


202  HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY. 

her  ease  in  the  stern.  Once  they  came  to 
the  mouth  of  a  stream  which  they  pleased 
themselves  by  imagining  to  be  unknown  to 
mankind.  Dipping  the  oars  gently,  Hilde- 
garde  drew  the  boat  on  and  on.  between 
high,  dark  banks  of  hemlock  and  pine  and 
white  birch.  Here  were  cardinal-flowers, 
more  than  they  had  ever  seen  before,  rank 
behind  rank,  all  crowding  down  to  the  water's 
edge  to  see  their  beauty  mirrored  in  the 
clear,  dark  stream.  They  were  too  beautiful 
to  pick.  But  Hildegarde  took  just  one,  as  a 
memento,  and  even  for  that  one  the  spirit  of 
the  enchanted  place  seemed  to  be  angered  ; 
for  there  was  a  flash  of  white  barred  wings,  a 
loud  shrill  cry,  and  they  caught  the  gleam  of 
two  fierce  black  eyes,  as  something  whirred 
past  them  across  the  stream,  and  vanished 
in  the  woods  beyond. 

"  Oh !   what  was   it  ?  "    cried   Hildegarde. 
"  Have  we  done  a  dreadful  thing  ? " 


HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY.  203 

"  Only  a  kingfisher  !  "  said  Rose,  laughing. 
•'  But  I  don't  believe  we  ought  to  have  picked 
his  flower.  This  is  certainly  a  fairy  place  ! 
Move  on,  or  he  may  cast  a  spell  over  us,  and 
we  shall  turn  into  two  black  stones." 

One  day,  however,  they  had  a  stranger 
adventure  than  that  of  the  Halcyon  Stream, 
as  they  named  the  mysterious  brook.  They 
had  been  walking  in  the  woods ;  and  Rose, 
being  tired,  had  stopped  to  rest,  while  Hilde- 
garde  pursued  a  "  yellow  swallow-tail  "  among 
the  trees.  Rose  established  herself  on  the 
trunk  of  a  fallen  tree,  whose  upturned  roots 
made  a  most  comfortable  armchair,  all  tapes- 
tried with  emerald  moss.  She  looked  about 
her  with  great  content ;  counted  the  dif- 
ferent kinds  of  moss  growing  within  imme- 
diate reach,  and  found  six ;  tried  to  decide 
which  was  the  prettiest,  and  finding  this  im- 
possible, gave  it  up,  and  fell  to  watching  the 
play  of  the  sunshine  as  it  came  twinkling 


204  HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY. 

through  the  branches  of  oak  and  pine.  Green 
and  gold  !  —  those  were  the  colors  the  fairy 
princes  always  wore,  she  thought.  It  was 
the  most  perfect  combination  in  the  world ; 
and  she  hummed  a  verse  of  one  of  Hilde- 
garde's  ballads:  — 

"  Gold  and  green,  gold  and  green, 
She  was  the  lass  that  was  born  a  queen. 
Velvet  sleeves  to  her  grass -green  gown, 
And  clinks  o'  gold  in  her  hair  so  brown." 

Presently  the  girl  noticed  that  in  one  place 
the  trees  were  thinner,  and  that  the  light 
came  strongly  through,  as  from  an  open 
space  beyond.  Did  the  wood  end  here, 
then  ?  She  rose,  and  parting  the  leaves, 
moved  forward,  till  all  of  a  sudden  she 
stopped  short,  in  amazement.  For  something 
strange  was  before  her.  In  an  open  green 
space,  with  the  forest  all  about  it,  stood  a 
house,  —  not  a  deserted  house,  nor  a  tumble- 
down log-hut,  such  as  one  often  sees  in 


HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY.  205 

Maine,  but  a  trim,  pretty  cottage,  painted 
dark  red,  with  a  vine-covered  piazza,  and  a 
miniature  lawn,  smooth  and  green,  sloping 
down  to  a  fringe  of  willows,  beyond  which 
was  heard  the  murmur  of  an  unseen  brook. 
The  shutters  were  closed,  and  there  was  no 
sign  of  life  about  the  place,  yet  all  was  in 
perfect  order ;  all  looked  fresh  and  well 
cared  for,  as  if  the  occupants  had  gone  for 
a  walk  or  drive,  and  might  return  at  any 
moment.  A  drive  ?  Hark !  was  not  that 
the  sound  of  wheels,  even  at  this  moment,  on 
the  neat  gravel-path  ?  Rose  drew  back  in- 
stinctively, letting  the  branches  close  in  front 
of  her.  Yet,  she  thought,  there  could  be  no 
harm  in  her  peeping  just  for  a  moment,  to 
see  who  these  forest-dwellers  might  be.  A 
fairy  prince  ?  a  queenly  maiden  in  gold  and 
green  ?  Laughing  at  her  own  thoughts,  she 
leaned  forward  to  peep  through  the  leafy 
screen.  What  was  her  astonishment  when 


206  HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY. 

round  the  corner  came  the  familiar  head  of 
Dr.  Abernethy,  with  the  carryall  behind  him. 
Jeremiah  driving,  and  Miss  Wealthy  sitting 
on  the  back  seat!  Rose  could  not  believe  her 
eyes  at  first,  and  thought  she  must  be  asleep 
on  the  tree-trunk,  and  dreaming  it  all.  Her 
second  thought  was,  why  should  not  Miss 
Bond  know  the  people  of  the  house  ?  They 
were  her  neighbors ;  she  had  come  to  make  a 
friendly  call.  There  was  nothing  strange 
about  it.  No!  but  it  teas  strange  to  see  the 
old  lady,  after  mounting  the  steps  slowly, 
draw  a  key  from  her  pocket,  deliberately 
open  the  door,  and  enter  the  house,  closing 
the  door  after  her.  Jeremiah  drove  slowly 
round  to  the  back  of  the  house.  In  a  few 
moments  the  shutters  of  the  lower  rooms 
were  flung  back.  Miss  Wealthy  stood  at 
the  window  for  a  few  minutes,  gazing  out 
thoughtfully;  then  she  disappeared. 

Rose  was  beginning  to  feel  very  guilty,  as 


HTLDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY.  207 

if  she  had  seen  what  she  ought  not  to  see. 
A  sense  of  sadness,  of  mystery,  weighed 
heavily  on  her  sensitive  spirit  Very  qui- 
etly she  stole  back  to  her  tree-trunk,  and 
was  presently  joined  by  Hildegarde,  flushed 
and  radiant,  with  the  butterfly  safe  in  her 
plant-box,  a  quick  and  merciful  pinch  having 
converted  him  into  a  "  specimen  "  before  he 
fairly  knew  that  he  was  caught.  Rose  told 
her  tale,  and  Hildegarde  wondered,  and  in 
her  turn  went  to  look  at  the  mysterious 
house. 

"  How  very  strange  !  "  she  said,  returning. 
''  I  hardly  know  why  it  is  so  strange,  for  of 
course  there  might  be  all  kinds  of  things  to 
account  for  it.  It  may  be  the  house  of  some 
one  who  has  gone  away  and  asked  Cousin 
Wealthy  to  come  and  look  at  it  occasionally. 
The  people  may  be  in  it,  and  like  to  have  the 
blinds  all  shut.  And  yet  —  yet,  I  don't  be- 
lieve it  is  so.  I  feel  strange  !  " 


208  HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY. 

"  Come  away ! "  said  Rose,  rising.  "  Come 
home  ;  it  is  a  secret,  and  not  our  secret." 

And  home  they  went,  very  silent,  and 
forgetting  to  look  for  hiaiden-hair,  which 
they  had  come  specially  to  seek. 

But  girls  are  girls ;  and  Hildegarde  and 
Rose  could  not  keep  their  thoughts  from 
dwelling  on  the  house  in  the  wood.  After 
some  consultation,  they  decided  that  there 
would  be  no  harm  in  asking  Martha  about 
it.  If  she  put  them  off,  or  seemed  unwilling 
to  speak,  then  they  would  try  to  forget  what 
they  had  seen,  and  keep  away  from  that  part 
of  the  woods  ;  if  not  — 

So  it  happened  that  the  next  day,  while 
Miss  Wealthy  was  taking  her  after-dinner 
nap,  the  two  girls  presented  themselves  at 
the  door  of  Martha's  little  sewing-room,  where 
she  sat  with  her  sleeves  rolled  up,  hemming 
pillow-cases.  It  was  a  sunny  little  room, 
with  a  pleasant  smell  of  pennyroyal  about  it. 


HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY.  209 

There  was  a  little  mahogany  table  that  might 
have  done  duty  as  a  looking-glass,  and  indeed 
did  reflect  the  wonderful  bouquet  of  wax 
flowers  that  adorned  it ;  a  hair-cloth  rocking- 
chair,  and  a  comfortable  wooden  one  with  a 
delightful  creak,  without  which  Martha  would 
not  have  felt  at  home.  On  the  walls  were 
some  bright  prints,  and  a  framed  temperance 
pledge  (Martha  had  never  tasted  anything 
stronger  than  shrub,  and  considered  that 
rather  a  dangerous  stimulant);  and  the  Death- 
bed of  Lincoln,  with  a  wooden  Washington 
diving  out  of  stony  clouds  to  receive  the 
departing  spirit. 

"  May  we  come  in,  Martha  ?  "  asked  Hil- 
degarde.  "  We  have  brought  our  work,  and 
we  want  to  ask  you  about  something." 

"  Come  in,  and  welcome !  "  responded  Mar- 
tha. "  Glad  to  see  you,  —  if  you  can  make 
yourselves  comfortable,  that  is.  I  '11  get 
another  chair  from  —  " 

14 


210  HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY. 

"  No,  indeed,  you  will  not !  "  said  Hilde- 
garde.  "  Rose  shall  sit  in  this  rocking-chair, 
and  I  will  take  the  window-seat,  which  is 
better  than  anything  else  ;  so,  there  we  are, 
all  settled!  Now,  Martha — "  She  hesitated 
a  moment,  and  Rose  shrank  back  and  made  a 
little  deprecatory  movement  with  her  hand ; 
but  Hildegarde  was  not  to  be  stopped. 
"  Martha,  we  have  seen  the  house  in  the 
wood.  We  just  happened  on  it  by  chance, 
and  we  saw  —  we  saw  Cousin  Wealthy  go 
in.  And  we  want  to  know  if  you  can  tell 
us  about  it,  or  if  Cousin  Wealthy  would  not 
like  us  to  be  told.  You  will  know,  of 
course." 

She  paused.  A  shadow  had  crossed  Mar- 
tha's cheerful,  wise  face  ;  and  she  sighed  and 
stitched  away  in  silence  at  her  pillow-case 
for  some  minutes,  while  the  girls  waited  with 
outward  patience.  At  last,  "  I  don't  know 
why  I  should  n't  tell  you,  young  ladies,"  she 


HILDEGARDE'S   HOLIDAY.  211 

said  slowly.  "  It 's  no  harm,  and  no  secret ; 
only,  of  course,  you  would  n't  speak  of  it  to 
her,  poor  dear  !  " 

She  was  silent  again,  collecting  her  words ; 
for  she  was  slow  of  speech,  this  good  Martha. 
"  That  house,"  she  said  at  last,  "  belongs  to 
Miss  Bond.  It  was  built  just  fifty  years  ago 
by  the  young  man  she  was  going  to  marry." 
Hildegarde  drew  in  her  breath  quickly,  with 
a  low  cry  of  surprise,  but  made  no  further 
interruption. 

"  He  was  a  fine  young  gentleman,  I  've 
been  told  by  all  as  had  seen  him ;  tall  and 
handsome,  with  a  kind  of  foreign  way  with 
him,  very  taking.  He  was  brought  up  in 
France,  and  almost  as  soon  as  he  came  out 
here  (his  people  were  from  Castine,  and 
had  French  blood)  he  met  Miss  Bond,  and 
they  fell  in  love  with  each  other  at  sight,  as 
they  say.  She  lived  here  in  this  same  house 
with  her  father  (her  mother  was  dead),  and 


212  HILDEGARDE'S   HOLIDAY. 

she  was  as  sweet  as  a  June  rose,  and  a  picture 
to  look  at.  Ah !  dear  me,  dear  me !  Poor 
lamb !  I  never  saw  her  then.  I  was  a  baby, 
as  you  may  say ;  leastwise  a  child  of  three 
or  four. 

"  Old  Mary  told  me  all  about  it  when  first 
I  came,  —  old  Mary  was  housekeeper  here 
forty  years,  and  died  ten  year  ago.  Well, 
she  used  to  say  it  was  a  picture  to  see  Miss 
Wealthy  when  she  was  expecting  Mr.  La  Rose 
(Victor  La  Rose  was  his  name).  She  would 
put  on  a  white  gown,  with  a  bunch  of  pansies 
in  the  front  of  it ;  they  were  his  favorite 
flowers,  Mary  said,  and  he  used  to  call  her 
his  Pansy,  which  means  something  in  French, 
I  don't  rightly  know  what;  and  then  she 
would  come  out  on  the  lawn,  and  look  and 
look  do\vn  river.  Most  times  he  came  up  in 
his  sail-boat,  —  he  loved  the  water,  and  was 
more  at  home  on  it  than  on  land,  as  you  may 
say.  And  when  she  saw  the  white  boat 


HILDEGARDE'S   HOLIDAY.  213 

coming  round  the  bend,  she  would  flush  all 
up,  old  Mary  said,  like  one  of  them  damask 
roses  in  your  belt,  Miss  Hilda  ;  and  her  eyes 
would  shine  and  sparkle,  and  she  'd  clap  her 
hands  like  a  child,  and  run  down  to  the  wharf 
to  meet  him.  Standing  there,  with  her  lovely 
hair  blowing  about  in  the  wind,  she  would 
look  more  like  a  spirit,  Mary  would  say, 
than  a  mortal  person.  Then  when  the  boat 
touched  the  wharf,  she  would  hold  out  her 
little  hands  to  help  him  up;  and  he,  so  strong 
and  tall,  was  glad  to  be  helped,  just  to  touch 
her  hand.  And  so  they  would  come  up  to 
the  house  together,  holding  of  hands,  like 
two  happy  children.  And  full  of  play  they 
was,  tossing  flowers  about  and  singing  and 
laughing,  all  for  the  joy  of  being  together, 
as  you  may  say  ;  and  she  always  with  a  pansy 
for  his  button-hole  the  first  thing ;  and  he 
looking  down  so  proud  and  loving  while  she 
fastened  it  in.  And  most  times  he  'd  bring 


214  HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY. 

her  something,  —  a  box  of  chocolate,  or  a 
new  book,  or  whatever  it  was,  —  but  old  Mary 
thought  she  was  best  pleased  when  he  came 
with  nothing  but  himself.  And  both  of  them 
that  loving  and  care-taking  to  the  old  gentle- 
man, as  one  don't  often  see  in  young  folks 
courting ;  making  him  sit  with  them  on  the 
piazza  after  tea,  and  the  young  man  telling 
all  he  'd  seen  and  done  sinee  the  last  time  ; 
and  then  she  would  take  her  guitar  and  sing 
the  sweetest,  old  Mary  said,  that  ever  was 
sung  out  of  heaven.  Then  by  and  by  old 
Mr.  Bond  would  go  away  in  to  his  book,  and 
they  would  sit  and  talk,  or  walk  in  the  moon- 
light, or  perhaps  go  out  on  the  water.  She 
was  a  great  hand  for  the  water,,  Mary  said  ; 
and  never  's  been  on  it  since  that  time.  Not 
that  it's  to  wonder  at,  to  my  mind.  Ah, 
dear  me ! 

"  Well,  my  dears,  they  was  to  be  married 
in  the  early  fall,  as  it  might  be  September. 


HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY.  215 

He  had  built  that  pretty  house,  so  as  she 
need  n't  be  far  from  her  father,  who  was 
getting  on  in  years,  and  she  his  only  child. 
He  furnished  it  beautiful,  every  room  like  a 
best  parlor,  —  carpets  and  sofys  and  lace 
curt'ins,  —  there  was  nothing  too  good.  But 
her  own  room  was  all  pansies,  —  everything 

• 

made  to  order,  with  that  pattern  and  nothing 
else.  It 's  a  sight  to  see  to-day,  fifty  years 
since  't  was  all  fresh  and  new. 

u  One  day  —  my  dear  young  ladies,  the 
ways  of  the  Lord  are  very  strange  by  times, 
but  we  must  truly  think  that  they  are  his 
ways,  and  so  better  than  ours,  —  one  day 
Miss  Wealthy  was  looking  for  her  sweetheart 
at  the  usual  time  of  his  coming,  about  three 
o'clock  in  the  afternoon.  The  morning  had 
been  fine,  but  the  weather  seemed  to  be 
coming  up  bad,  Mary  thought ;  and  old  Mr. 
Bond  thought  so,  too,  for  he  came  out  on  the 
piazza  where  Mary  was  sorting  out  garden- 


216  HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY. 

herbs,  and  said,  *  Daughter,  I  think  Victor 
will  drive  to-day.  There  is  a  squall  coming 
up  ;  it  is  n't  a  good  day  for  the  water.' 

"  And  it  was  n't,  Mary  said ;  for  an  ugly 
black  cloud  was  coming  over,  and  under  it 
the  sky  looked  green  and  angry. 

"But  Miss  Wealthy  only  laughed,  and 
shook  her  yellow  curls  back,  —  like  curling 
sunbeams,  Mary  said  they  was,  and  said, 
'Victor  doesn't  mind  squalls,  Father  dear. 
He  has  been  in  gales  and  hurricanes  and 
cyclones,  and  do  you  think  he  will  stop  for 
a  river  flaw  ?  See !  there  is  the  boat  now, 
coming  round  the  bend.'  And  there,  sure 
enough,  came  the  white  sailboat,  flying  along 
as  if  she  was  alive,  old  Mary  said.  Miss 
Wealthy  ran  out  on  the  lawn  and  waved 
her  handkerchief,  and  they  saw  the  young 
man  stand  up  in  the  boat  and  wave  his  in 
return.  And  then  —  oh,  dear  !  oh,  dear  me  ! 
—  Mary  said,  it  seemed  as  if  something  black 


HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY.  217 

came  rushing  across  the  water  and  struck 
the  boat  like  a  hand ;  and  down  she  went, 
and  in  a  moment  there  was  nothing  to  see, 
only  the  water  all  black  and  hissing,  and  the 
wind  tearing  the  tree-tops." 

"  Oh  !  but  he  could  swim !  "  cried  Hilde- 
garde,  pale  and  breathless. 

"  He  was  a  noble  swimmer,  my  dear !  "  said 
Martha,  sadly.  "  But  it  came  too  sudden,  you 
see.  He  had  turned  to  look  at  his  sweet- 
heart, poor  young  gentleman,  and  wave  to 
her,  and  in  that  moment  it  came.  He  had  n't 
time  to  clear  himself,  and  was  tangled  in  the 
ropes,  and  held  down  by  the  sail.  Oh,  don't 
ask  me  any  more !  But  he  was  drowned, 
that  is  all  of  it.  Death  needs  only  a  mo- 
ment, and  has  that  moment  always  ready. 
Eh,  dear !  My  poor,  sweet  lady  !  " 

There  was  a  pause  ;  for  Rose  was  weeping, 
and  Hildegarde  could  not  speak,  though  her 
eyes  were  dry  and  shining. 


218  HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY. 

Presently  Martha  continued :  "  The  poor 
dear  fell  back  into  her  father's  arms,  and  he 
and  Mary  carried  her  into  the  house  ;  and  then 
came  a  long,  sad  time.  For  days  and  days 
they  could  n't  make  her  believe  but  that  he 
was  saved,  for  she  knew  he  was  a  fine  swim- 
mer ;  but  at  last,  when  all  was  over,  and  the 
body  found  and  buried,  they  brought  her  a 
little  box  that  they  found  in  his  pocket,  all 
soaked  with  water,  —  oh,  dear !  —  and  in  it 
was  that  pin,  —  the  stone  pansy,  as  she  always 
wears,  and  will  till  the  day  she  dies.  Then 
she  knew,  and  she  lay  back  in  her  bed,  and 
they  thought  she  would  never  leave  it.  But 
folks  don't  often  die  that  way,  Miss  Hilda 
and  Miss  Rose.  Trouble  is  for  us  to  live 
through,  not  to  die  by ;  and  she  got  well,  and 
comforted  her  father,  and  by  and  by  she 
learned  how  to  smile  again,  though  that  was 
not  for  a  long  time.  The  poor  gentleman 
had  made  a  will,  giving  the  new  house  to 


HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY.  219 

her,  and  all  he  had ;  for  he  had  no  near 
kin  living.  Mr.  Bond  wanted  her  to  sell  it; 
but,  oh!  she  wouldn't  hear  to  it.  All  these 
years  —  fifty  long  years,  Miss  Hilda  !  —  she 
has  kept  that  house  in  apple-pie  order.  Once  a 
month  I  go  over,  as  old  Mary  did  before  me, 
and  sweep  it  from  top  to  bottom,  and  wash 
the  windows.  And  three  times  a  week  she 
—  Miss  Bond  —  goes  over  herself,  as  you 
saw  her  to-day,  and  sits  an  hour  or  so,  and 
puts  fresh  pansies  in  the  vases ;  and  Jeremiah 
keeps  the  lawn  mowed,  odd  times,  and  every- 
thing in  good  shape.  It 's  a  strange  fancy, 
to  my  idea  ;  but  there  !  it 's  her  pleasure.  In 
winter,  when  she  can't  go,  of  course,  for  the 
snow,  she  is  always  low-spirited,  poor  lady  ! 
I  was  so  glad  Mrs.  Grahame  asked  her  to  go 
to  New  York  last  winter ! 

"  And  now,  young  ladies,"  said  Martha, 
gathering  up  her  pillow-cases,  "  I  should 
be  in  my  kitchen,  seeing  about  supper. 


220  HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY. 

That  is  all  the  story  of  the  house  in  the 
wood.  And  you'll  not  let  it  make  you  too 
sad,  seeing  'twas  the  Lord's  doing;  and  to 
look  at  her  now,  you  'd  never  think  but 
what  her  life  had  been  of  her  own  choosing, 
and  she  couldn't  have  had  any  other." 

Very  quietly  and  sadly  the  girls  went  to 
their  rooms,  and  sat  hand  in  hand,  and 
talked  in  whispers  of  what  they  had  heard. 
The  brightness  of  the  day  seemed  gone ; 
they  could  hardly  bear  the  pain  of  sym- 
pathy, of  tender  pity,  that  filled  their 
young  hearts.  They  could  not  understand 
how  there  could  ever  be  rallying  from 
such  a  blow.  They  knew  nothing  of  how 
long  passing  years  turn  bitter  to  sweet,  and 
build  a  lovely  "  House  of  Rest "  over  what 
was  once  a  black  gulf  of  anguish  and  horror. 

Miss  Wealthy's  cheerful  face,  when  they 
went  down  to  tea,  struck  them  with  a 
shock ;  they  had  almost  expected  to  find 


HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY.  221 

it  pale  and  tear-stained,  and  could  hardly 
command  their  usual  voices  in  speaking  to 
her.  The  good  lady  was  quite  distressed. 
"  My  dear  Rose/'  she  said,  "  you  look  very 
pale  and  tired.  I  am  quite  sure  you  must 
have  walked  too  far  to-day.  You  would 
better  go  to  bed  very  early,  my  dear,  and 
Martha  shall  give  you  a  hop  pillow.  Very 
soothing  a  hop  pillow  is,  when  one  is  tired. 
And,  Hilda,  you  are  not  in  your  usual  spirits. 
I  trust  you  are  not  homesick,  my  child ! 
You  have  not  touched  your  favorite  cream- 
cheese." 

Both  girls  reassured  her,  feeling  rather 
ashamed  of  themselves ;  and  after  tea  Hilde- 
garde  read  "  Bleak  House  "  aloud,  and  then 
they  had  a  game  of  casino,  and  the  evening 
passed  off  quite  cheerfully. 


222  HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY. 


CHAPTER  XL 

"UP  IN   THE   MORNING   EARLY." 

"  ONE  !  two !  three !  four !  five  !  six !  " 
said  the  clock  in  the  hall. 

"  Yes,  I  know  it !  "  replied  Hildegarde, 
sitting  up  in  bed ;  and  then  she  slipped 
quietly  out  and  went  to  call  Rose. 

"  Get  up,  you  sleepy  flower ! "  she  said, 
shaking  her  friend  gently, — 

"  A  I'heure  oh  s'6veille  la  rose, 
Ne  vas-tu  pas  te  reveiller  ?  " 

Rose  sighed,  as  she  always  did  at  the 
sound  of  the  "  impossible  language,"  as  she 
called  the  French,  over  which  she  struggled 
for  an  hour  every  day ;  but  got  up  obedi- 


HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY.  223 

ently,  and  made  a  hasty  and  fragmentary 
toilet,  ending  with  a  waterproof  instead  of 
a  dress.  Then  each  girl  took  a  blue  bundle 
and  a  brown  bath  towel,  and  softly  they 
slipped  downstairs,  making  no  noise,  and 
out  into  the  morning  air,  and  away  down 
the  path  to  the  river.  Every  blade  of  grass 
was  awake,  and  a-quiver  with  the  dewdrop 
on  its  tip ;  the  trees  showered  pearls  and 
diamonds  on  the  two  girls,  as  they  brushed 
past  them ;  the  birds  were  singing  and 
fluttering  and  twittering  on  every  branch, 
as  if  the  whole  world  belonged  to  them,  as 
indeed  it  did.  On  the  river  lay  a  mantle 
of  soft  white  rnist,  curling  at  the  edges,  and 
lifting  here  and  there ;  and  into  this  mist 
the  sun  was  striking  gold  arrows,  turning 
the  white  to  silver,  and  breaking  through  it 
to  meet  the  blue  flash  of  the  water.  Gradu- 
ally the  mist  rose,  and  floated  in  the  air ; 
and  now  it  was  a  maiden,  a  young'  Titaness, 


224  HILDEGARDE'S   HOLIDAY. 

rising  from  her  sleep,  with  trailing  white  robes, 
which  caught  on  the  trees  and  the  points 
of  rock,  and  hung  In  fleecy  tatters  on  the 
hillside,  and  curled  in  snowy  circles  through 
the  coves  and  hollows.  At  last  she  laid  her 
long  white  arms  over  the  hill-tops,  and  lifted 
her  fair  head,  and  so  melted  quite  away  and 
was  gone,  and  the  sun  had  it  all  his  own 
way. 

Then  Hildegarde  and  Rose,  who  had 
been  standing  in  silent  delight  and  wonder, 
gave  each  a  sigh  of  pleasure,  and  hugged 
each  other  a  little,  because  it  was  so 
beautiful,  and  went  into  the  boat-house. 
Thence  they  reappeared  in  a  few  minutes, 
clad  in  close-fitting  raiment  of  blue  flannel, 
their  arms  bare,  their  hair  knotted  in  Gothic 
fashion  on  top  of  their  heads.  Then  Hilde- 
garde stood  on  the  edge  of  the  wharf,  and 
rose  on  the  tips  of  her  toes,  and  joined  her 
palms  high  above  her  head,  then  sprang 


HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY.  225 

into  the  air,  describing  an  arc,  and  disap- 
peared with  a  silver  splash  which  rivalled 
that  of  her  own  sturgeon.  But  Rose,  who 
could  not  dive,  just  sat  down  on  the  wharf 
and  then  rolled  off  it,  in  the  most  comfort- 
able way  possible.  When  they  both  came 
up,  there  was  much  puffing,  and  shaking  of 
heads,  and  little  gasps  and  shrieks  of  delight. 
The  water  by  the  wharf  was  nearly  up  to 
the  girls'  shoulders,  and  farther  than  this 
Rose  could  not  go,  as  she  could  not  swim; 
so  a  rope  had  been  stretched  from  the  end 
of  the  wharf  to  the  shore,  and  on  this  she 
swung,  like  the  mermaids  on  the  Atlantic 
cable,  in  Tenniel's  charming  picture,  and 
floated  at  full  length,  and  played  a  thou- 
sand gambols.  She  could  see  the  white 
pebbled  bottom  through  the  clear  water, 
and  her  own  feet  as  white  as  the  pebbles 
(Rose  had  very  pretty  feet;  and  now  that 
they  were  no  longer  useless  appendages, 

15 


226  HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY. 

she  could  not  help  liking  to  look  at  them, 
though  she  was  rather  ashamed  of  it).  Now 
she  swung  herself  near  the  shore,  and 
caught  hold  of  the  twisted  roots  of  the 
great  willow  that  leaned  over  the  water, 
and  pulled  the  branches  down  till  they  fell 
like  a  green  canopy  over  her ;  and  now 
she  splashed  the  water  about,  for  pure  pleas- 
ure of  seeing  the  diamond  showers  as  the 
sunlight  caught  them.  But  Hildegarde 
swam  out  into  the  middle  of  the  river, 
cleaving  the  blue  water  with  long,  regular 
strokes;  and  then  turned  on  her  back,  and 
lay  contemplating  the  universe  with  infinite 
content. 

"  You  are  still  in  the  shade,  you  poor 
Rosebud ! "  she  cried.  "  See  !  I  am  right 
in  the  sparkle.  I  can  gather  gold  with 
both  hands.  How  many  broad  pieces  will 
you  have?"  She  sent  a  shower  of  drops 
toward  the  shore,  which  Rose  returned  with 


HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY.  227 

interest ;  and  a  battle-royal  ensued,  in  which 
the  foam  flew  left  and  right,  and  the 
smooth  water  was  churned  into  a  thousand 

eddies. 

i 

"  I  am  the  Plesiosaurus ! "  cried  Hilde- 
garde,  giving  a  mighty  splash.  "  Beware ! 
beware  !  my  flashing  eyes,  my  floating 
hair ! " 

"Shade  of  Coleridge,  forgive  her!"  ex- 
claimed Rose,  dashing  a  return  volley  of 
pearly  spray.  "  And  the  Plesiosaurus  had 
no  hair ;  otherwise,  I  may  say  I  have  often 
observed  the  resemblance.  Well,  I  am  the 
Ichthyosaurus !  You  remember  the  picture 
in  the  '  Journey  to  the  Centre  of  the 
Earth'?" 

Hildegarde  replied  by  plunging  toward 
her,  rearing  her  head  in  as  serpentine  a 
manner  as  she  could  command ;  and  after 
a  struggle  the  two  mighty  saurians  went 
down  together  in  a  whirlpool  of  frothing 


228  HILDEGAIIDE'S  HOLIDAY. 

waves.  They  came  up  quite  out  of  breath, 
and  sat  laughing  and  panting  on  the  willow 
root,  which  in  one  place  curved  out  in  such 

a   way   as    to   make    a   charming   seat. 

% 

"  Look  at  Grandfather  Bullfrog  !  "  said 
Rose.  "  He  is  shocked  at  our  behavior. 
We  are  big  enough  to  know  better,  are  n't 
we,  sir?"  She  addressed  with  deep  respect 
an  enormous  brown  bullfrog,  who  had  come 
up  to  see  what  was  the  matter,  and  who 
sat  on  a  stone  surveying  the  pair  with  a 
look  of  indignant  amazement. 

"  Coax  !  coax  !  Brek-ke-ke-kex  !  "  cried 
Hildegarde.  "  That  is  the  only  sentence  of 
frog-talk  I  know.  It  is  in  a  story  of  Hans 
Andersen's.  Do  you  see,  Rose  ?  He  under- 
stands ;  he  winked  in  a  most  expressive 
manner.  Whom  did  you  get  for  a  wife, 
when  you  found  Tommelise  had  run  away 
from  you;  and  what  became  of  the  white 
butterfly  ?  " 


HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY.  229 

The  bullfrog  evidently  resented  this  in- 
quiry into  his  most  private  affairs,  and  dis- 
appeared with  an  indignant  "  Glump  !  " 

"  Now  you  shall  see  me  perform  the 
great  Nose  and  Toe  Act!"  said  Hildegarde, 
jumping  from  the  seat  and  swimming  to  the 
end  of  the  wharf.  "  I  promised  to  show 
it  to  you,  you  remember."  She  seized 
the  great  toe  of  her  left  foot  with  the 
right  hand,  and  grasping  her  nose  with 
the  left,  threw  herself  backward  into  the 
water. 

Rose  waited  in  breathless  suspense  for 
what  seemed  an  interminable  time ;  but  at 
length  there  was  a  glimmer  under  the  water, 
then  a  break,  and  up  came  the  dauntless 
diver,  gasping  but  triumphant,  still  grasp- 
ing the  nose  and  toe. 

"  I  did  n't  —  let  go  !  "  she  panted.  "  I 
did  n't  —  half —  think  I  could  do  it,  it  is  so 
long  since  I  tried." 


230  HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY. 

<l  I  thought  you  would  never  come  up 
again!"  cried  Rose.  "It  is  a  dreadful  thing 
to  do.  You  might  as  well  be  the  Great 
Northern  Diver  at  once.  Are  you  sure 
there  isn't  a  web  growing  between  your 
toes?" 

"  Oh,  that  is  nothing  !  "  said  Hildegarde, 
laughing.  "  You  should  see  Papa  turn  back 
somersaults  in  the  water.  That  is  worth  see- 
ing! Look!"  she  added,  a  moment  after, 
"there  is  a  log  floating  down.  I  wonder  if 
I  can  walk  on  it."  She  swam  to  the  log, 
which  was  coining  lazily  along  with  the 
current;  tried  to  climb  on  it,  and  rolled 
over  with  it  promptly,  to  Rose's  great  de- 
light. But,  nothing  daunted,  she  tried 
again  and  yet  again,  and  finally  succeeded 
in  standing  up  on  the  log,  holding  out  her 
arms  to  balance  herself.  A  pretty  picture 
she  made,  —  lithe  and  slender  as  a  reed, 
her  fair  face  all  aglow  with  life  and  merri- 


"  SlIE    FINALLY    SUCCEEDED    IX    STANDING    UP   OX    THE    LOG." 


HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY.  231 

ment,  and  the  sunshine  all  round  her. 
"  See ! "  she  cried,  "  I  am  Taglioni,  the 
queen  of  the  ballet.  I  had  —  a  —  oh!  I 
nearly  went  over  that  time  —  I  had  a  paper- 
doll  once,  named  Taglioni.  She  was  truly  — 
lovely  !  You  stood  her  on  a  piece  of  wood  — 
just  like  this ;  only  there  was  a  crack  which 
held  her  toes,  and  this  has  no  crack.  Now 
I  will  perform  the  Grand  Pas  de  Fee !  La- 
la-tra-la  —  if  I  can  only  get  to  this  end, 
now !  Rose,  I  forbid  you  to  laugh.  You 
shake  the  log  with  your  empty  mirth.  La- 
la-la  — "  Here  the  log,  which  had  its 
own  views,  turned  quietly  over,  and  the 
queen  of  the  ballet  disappeared  with  a  loud 
splash,  while  Rose  laughed  till  she  nearly 
lost  hold  of  her  rope. 

But  now  the  water-frolic  had  lasted  long 
enough,  and  it  was  nearly  breakfast- time. 
Very  reluctantly  the  girls  left  the  cool  de- 
light of  the  water,  and  shaking  themselves 


232  HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY. 

like  two  Newfoundland  dogs,  ran  into  the 
boat-house,  with  many  exclamations  over 
the  good  time  they  had  had. 

At  breakfast  they  found  Miss  Wealthy 
looking  a  little  troubled  over  a  note  which 
she  had  just  received  by  mail.  It  was  from 
Mrs.  Murray,  the  matron  of  the  Children's 
Hospital. 

"  Perhaps  you  would  read  it  to  me,  Hilda 
dear !  "  she  said.  "  I  cannot  make  it  out 
very  well.  Mrs.  Murray's  hand  is  very  illegi- 
ble, or  it  may  be  partly  because  I  have  not 
my  reading-glasses."  So  Hilda  read  as 
follows :  — 

DEAR  Miss  BOND,  —  Is  there  any  one  in  your  neigh- 
borhood who  would  take  a  child  to  board  for  a  few 
weeks  ?  Little  Benny  May,  a  boy  of  four  years,  very 
bright  and  attractive,  is  having  a  slow  recovery  from 
pneumonia,  and  has  had  one  relapse.  I  dare  not  send 
him  home,  where  he  would  be  neglected  by  a  very  care- 
less mother;  nor  can  we  keep  him  longer  here.  I 
thought  you  might  possibly  know  of  some  good, 
motherly  woman,  who  would  take  the  little  fellow, 


flILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY.  233 

and  let  him  run  about  in  the  sunshine  and  drink  milk, 
for  that  is  what  he  needs. 

With  kind  regards  to  your  niece,  whom  I  hope  we 
shall  see  again, 

Always  sincerely  yours, 

ELIZABETH  MURRAY. 

Miss  Wealthy  listened  attentively,  and 
shook  her  head  ;  buttered  a  muffin,  stirred 
her  tea  a  little,  and  shook  her  head  again. 
"  I  can't  think,"  she  said  slowly  and  med- 
itatively, "  of  a  soul.  I  really  —  "  But 
here  she  was  interrupted,  though  not  by 
words.  For  Hildegarde  and  Rose  had  been 
exchanging  a  whole  battery  of  nods  and 
smiles  and  kindling  glances;  and  now  the 
former  sprang  from  her  seat,  and  came  and 
knelt  by  Miss  Wealthy's  chair,  and  looked 
up  in  her  face  with  mute  but  eloquent 
appeal. 

"  My  dear  !  "  said  the  old  lady.  "  What  is 
it  ?  what  do  you  want  ?  Is  n't  the  egg  per- 
fectly fresh?  I  will  call  —  "  But  Hilde- 


234  HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY. 

garde  stayed  her  hand  as  it  moved  toward 
the  bell. 

"  I  want  Benny ! "  she  murmured,  in  low 
and  persuasive  tones,  caressing  the  soft 
withered  hand  she  had  taken. 

"  A  penny  !  "  cried  Miss  Wealthy.  "  My 
dear  child,  certainly !  Any  small  amount  I 
will  most  gladly  give  you ;  though,  dear 
Hilda,  you  are  rather  old,  perhaps,  —  at  least 
your  mother  might  think  so,  —  to  —  " 

"  Oh,  Cousin  Wealthy,  how  can  you  ? " 
cried  Hildegarde,  springing  up,  and  turning 
scarlet,  though  she  could  not  help  laughing. 
"I  didn't  say  penny,  I  said  Benny!  I  want 
the  little  boy  !  Rose  and  I  both  want  him, 
to  take  care  of.  Mayn't  we  have  him, 
please?  We  may  not  be  motherly,  but  we 
are  very  sisterly,  —  at  least  Rose  is,  and 
I  know  I  could  learn,  —  and  we  would  take 
such  good  care  of  him,  and  we  do  want 
him  .  so  !  "  She  paused  for  breath ;  and  Miss 


HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY.  235 

Wealthy  leaned  back  in  her  chair,  and 
looked  bewildered. 

"  A  child  !  here  !  "  she  said ;  and  she  looked 
round  the  room,  as  if  she  rather  expected  the 
pictures  to  fall  from  the  walls  at  the  bare 
idea.  In  this  survey  she  perceived  that  one 
picture  hung  slightly  askew.  She  sighed, 
and  made  a  motion  to  rise ;  but  Hildegarde 
flew  to  straighten  the  refractory  frame,  and 
then  returned  to  the  charge. 

"  He  is  very  small !  "  she  said  meekly.  "  He 
could  sleep  in  my  room,  and  we  would  wash 
and  dress  him  and  keep  him  quiet  all  the 
time." 

"  A  child  !  "  repeated  Miss  Wealthy,  speak- 
ing as  if  half  in  a  dream ;  "  a  little  child, 
here !  "  Then  she  smiled  a  little,  and  then  the 
tears  filled  her  soft  blue  eyes,  and  she  gave 
something  like  a  sob.  "  I  don't  know  what 
Martha  would  say  !  "  she  cried.  "  It  might 
disturb  Martha;  otherwise  —  " 


236  HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY. 

But  Martha  was  at  her  elbow,  and  laid  a 
quiet  hand  on  her  mistress's  arm.  "  Sure 
we  would  all  like  it,  Mam ! "  she  said 
in  her  soothing,  even  tones.  "  'T  would 
be  like  a  sunbeam  in  the  house,  so  it 
would.  You  'd  better  let  the  child  come, 
Mam  !  " 

So  it  was  settled ;  and  the  very  next  day 
Hildegarde  and  Rose,  escorted  by  Jeremiah, 
went  to  Fairtown,  and  returned  in  triumph, 
bringing  little  Benny  with  them. 

Benny's  eyes  were  naturally  well  opened, 
but  by  the  time  he  reached  the  house  they 
were  staring  very  wide  indeed.  He  held 
Hildegarde's  hand  very  tight,  and  looked 
earnestly  up  at  the  vine-clad  walls  of  the 
cottage.  "  Don't  want  to  go  in  vere  !  "  he 
said,  hanging  back,  and  putting  his  finger 
in  his  mouth.  "  Want  to  go  back !  " 

"  Oh,  yes  !  "  said  Hildegarde.  "  You  do 
want  to  come  in  here,  Benny.  That  is 


HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY,  237 

what  we  have  come  for,  you  know.  I 
am  going  to  show  you  all  sorts  of  pretty 
things,  —  picture-books,  and  shells,  and  a 
black  kitty  - 

But  here  she  had  touched  5,  string  that 
wakened  a  train  of  reflection  in  Benny's 
mind  ;  his  lip  began  to  quiver.  "  Want  — 
my  —  Nelephant!  "  he  said  piteously.  "He's 
lef  alone  —  wiv  fits.  Want  to  go  back  to 
my  Nelephant."  An  ominous  sniff  followed  ; 
an  outbreak  of  tears  was  imminent. 

Hildegarde  caught  him  up  in  her  arms 
and  ran  off  toward  the  garden.  She  could 
not  have  him  cry,  she  thought,  just  at  the 
first  moment.  Cousin  Wealthy  would  be 
upset,  and  might  never  get  rid  of  the  first 
impression.  It  would  spoil  everything  !  The 
little  fellow  was  already  sobbing  on  her 
shoulder,  and  as  she  ran  she  began  hastily 
to  repeat  the  first  thing  that  came  into  her 
mind. 


238  HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY. 

"  Come,  take  up  your  hats,  and  away  let  us  haste 
To  the  Butterfly's  Ball  and  the  Grasshopper's  Feast. 
The  trumpeter  Gadfly  has  summoned  the  crew, 
And  the  revels  are  now  only  waiting  for  you  ! 

"  On  the  smooth-shaven  grass  by  the  side  of  the  wood, 
Beneath  a  broad  oak  that  for  ages  has  stood, 
See  the  children  of  earth  and  the  tenants  of  air 
For  an  evening's  amusement  together  repair." 

The  sobs  had  ceased,  and  Hildegarde 
paused  for  breath ;  but  the  arm  tightened 
round  her  neck,  and  the  baby  voice,  still 
tearful,  cried,  "  Sing  !  Sing-girl  want  to 
sing!" 

"  Oh  me  !  "  cried  Hildegarde,  laughing. 
"  You  little  Old  Man  of  the  Sea,  how  can 
I  run  and  sing  too  ?  "  She  sat  down  under 
the  laburnum-tree,  and  taking  the  two  tiny 
hands  in  hers,  began  to  pat  them  together, 
while  she  went  on  with  the  "  Butterfly's 
Ball,"  singing  it  now  to  the  tune  of  a  certain 
hornpipe,  which  fitted  it  to  perfection.  She 
had  not  heard  the  verses  since  she  was  a 


HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY.  239 

little    girl,   but   she    could  never  forget   the 
delight  of  her  childhood. 

"And  there  came  the  Beetle,  so  blind  and  so  black, 
Who  carried  the  Emmet,  his  friend,  on  his  back. 
And  there  came  the  Gnat,  and  the  Dragon-fly  too, 
With  all  their  relations,  green,  orange,  and  blue. 

"  And  there  came  the  Moth  —  " 

At  this  moment  came  something  else, 
more  welcome  than  the  moth  would  have 
been ;  for  Rose  appeared,  bearing  a  mug  in 
one  hand,  and  in  the  other  —  what  ? 

"Cow!"  cried  Benny,  sitting  upright,  and 
stretching  out  both  arms  in  rapture.  "My 
cow  !  mine  !  all  mine  !  " 

"  Yes,  your  cow,  dear,  for  now !  "  said 
Rose,  setting  the  treasure  down  on  the 
table.  "  Look,  Benny  !  she  is  such  a  good 
cow !  She  is  going  to  give  you  some  milk,  — 
nice,  fresh  milk  !  " 

The  brown  crockery  cow  was  indeed  a 
milk-jug;  and  Benny's  blue  eyes  and  Hilde- 


240  HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY. 

garde's  gray  ones  opened  wide  in  amazement 
as  Rose,  grasping  the  creature's  tail  and  tilt- 
ing her  forward,  poured  a  stream  of  milk  from 
her  open  mouth  into  the  mug.  The  child 
laughed,  and  clapped  his  hands  with  delight. 

"  Where  did  you  get  it  ?  "  asked  Hilde- 
garde  in  a  low  tone,  as  she  held  the  mug 
to  Benny's  lips. 

"  Saint  Martha!"  replied  Rose,  smiling.  "  It 
belonged  to  her  grandmother.  She  brought 
it  down  just  now.  and  said  she  had  seen 
many  a  child  quieted  with  it,  and  the  little 
one  would  very  likely  be  for  crying  at  first, 
in  a  strange  place  !  Is  n't  it  nice  ?  " 

"  Nice  !  "  said  Hildegarde  ;  "  I  never  want 
to  drink  out  of  anything  else  but  a  brown  cow. 
Dear  Martha !  and  observe  the  effect !  " 

Indeed,  Benny  was  laughing,  and  patting 
the  cow,  and  chattering  to  it,  as  if  no 
such  thing  as  a  gray  rubber  elephant  had 
ever  existed.  So  fickle  is  childhood  ! 


HILDEGARDE'S   HOLIDAY.  241 


CHAPTER  XII. 

BENNY. 

BENNY  took  possession  of  his  kingdom,  and 
ruled  it  with  a  firm,  though  for  the  most  part 
an  indulgent  hand.  Miss  Wealthy  succumbed 
from  the  first  moment,  when  he  advanced 
boldly  toward  her,  and  laying  a  chubby  hand 
on  her  knee,  said,  "  I  like  you.  Is  you'  hair 
made  of  spoons  ?  it  is  all  silver." 

Martha  was  his  slave,  and  lay  in  wait  for 
him  at  all  hours  with  gingerbread-men  and 
"  cooky  "-cows ;  while  the  two  girls  were 
nurses,  playmates,  and  teachers  by  turns. 
Jeremiah  wheeled  him  in  the  wheelbarrow, 
and  suffered  him  to  kick  his  shins,  and  might 
often  be  seen  sedately  at  work  hoeing  or 

1(3 


242  niLi>i:<;ARi)E's  HOLIDAY. 

raking,  with  the  child  sitting  astride  on  his 
shoulders,  and  drumming  with  sturdy  heels 
against  his  breast.  One  member  of  the  family 
alone  resisted  the  sovereign  charm  of  child- 
hood ;  one  alone  held  aloof  in  cold  disdain, 
refusing  to  touch  the  little  hand  or  answer 
the  piping  voice.  That  one  was  Samuel 
Johnson.  The  great  Doctor  was  deeply  of- 
fended at  the  introduction  of  this  new  ele- 
ment into  the  household.  He  had  not  been 
consulted  ;  he  would  have  nothing  to  do  with 
it !  So  when  Miss  Wealthy  introduced  Benny 
to  him  the  day  after  the  child  arrived,  and 
waited  anxiously  for  an  expression  of  his 
opinion,  the  Doctor  put  up  his  great  back, 
expanded  his  tail  till  it  looked  like  a  revolving 
street-sweeper,  and  uttering  an  angry  "  Fsss  ! 
spt!"  walked  away  in  high  dudgeon. 

Benny  was  delighted.  "Funny  old  kyat!" 
he  cried,  clapping  his  hands.  "  Say  '  Fsss ' 
some  more  !  Hi,  ole  kyat !  I  catch  you." 


HILDEGARDE'S   HOLIDAY.  243 

Hildegarde  caught  him  up  in  her  arms  as 
he  was  about  to  pursue  the  retiring  dignitary, 
and  Miss  Wealthy  looked  deeply  distressed. 

"  My  dears,  what  shall  we  do  ?  "  she  said. 
"  This  is  very  unfortunate.  If  I  had  thought 
the  Doctor  —  but  the  little  fellow  is  so  sweet, 

• 

I  thought  he  would  be  pleased  and  amused. 
We  must  try  to  keep  them  away  from  each 
other.  Or  perhaps,  if  the  little  dear  would 
try  to  propitiate  the  Doctor,  —  you  have  no 
idea  how  sensitive  he  is,  and  how  he  feels  any- 
thing like  disrespect,  —  if  he  were  to  try  to 
propitiate  him,  he  might  —  " 

"  Vat  ole  kyat, 
He  's  too  fat !  " 

shouted  Benny,  stamping  his  feet  to  em- 
phasize the  metre,  — 

"  Vat  ole  kyat 
He 's  too  fat ! 
He  ought  to  go 

catch  a  rat !  " 


244  HILDEGARDE'S   HOLIDAY. 

"  Come,  Benny  !  "  said  Hildegarde,  hastily, 
as  she  caught  a  glare  from  the  Doctor's  yellow 
eyes  that  fairly  frightened  her.  "  Come  out 
with  me  and  get  some  flowers."  And  as  they 
went  she  heard  Miss  Wealthy's  voice  address- 
ing the  great  cat  in  humble  and  deprecatory 
tones.  As  she  walked  about  in  the  garden 
holding  the  child's  hand,  Hildegarde  tried 
to  explain  to  him  that  he  must  be  very  polite 
to  Dr.  Johnson,  who  was  not  at  all  a  common 
cat,  and  should  be  treated  with  great  respect. 

But  Benny's  bump  of  reverence  was  small. 
"  Huh !  "  he  said.  "  /  is  n't  'fraid  of  kyats, 
sing-girl !  You  's  'fraid,  but  I  is  n't.  I  had 
brown  kitties,  only  I  never  seed  'em.  Dr. 
Brown  is  a  liar !  "  he  added  suddenly,  with 
startling  emphasis. 

"  Why,  Benny  !  "  cried  Hildegarde.  "  What 
do  you  mean  ?  You  must  n't  say  such  things, 
dear  child." 

"  He  is  a  liar !  "  Benny  maintained  stoutly. 


HILDEGARDE'S   HOLIDAY.  245 

'*  He  said  ve  brown  kitties  was  in  my  froat. 
Vey  was  n't ;  so  he  's  a  liar.  P'r'aps  he  's 
'fraid  too,  but  I  is  n't." 

For  several  days  the  greatest  care  was 
taken  to  keep  Benny  out  of  Dr.  Johnson's 
way.  When  the  imperious  mew  was  heard 
at  the  dining-room  door  after  dinner,  the  child 
was  hurried  through  with  the  last  spoonfuls 
of  his  puddjng-,  and  whisked  away  to  the 
parlor  before  the  cat  was  let  in.  Nor  would 
Miss  Wealthy  herself  go  into  the  parlor  when 
the  Doctor  had  finished  his  dessert,  till  she 
was  sure  that  Benny  had  been  taken  out  of 
doors.  Hildegarde  was  inclined  to  remonstrate 
at  this  course  of  action,  but  Miss  Wealthy 
would  not  listen  to  her. 

"  My  dear,"  she  said,  >;  it  does  not  do  to 
trifle  with  a  character  like  the  Doctor's.  I 
tremble  to  think  what  he  might  do  if  once 
thoroughly  roused  to  anger.  He  is  accus- 
tomed to  respect,  and  demands  it ;  and  we 


240  HILDEGARDE'S   HOLIDAY. 

must  remember,  my  dear,  that  even  in  the 
domestic  cat  lies  dormant  the  spirit  of  the 
Royal  Bengal  Tiger.  No,  my  dear  Hildegarde ; 
we  are  responsible  for  this  child's  life,  and  we 
must  at  any  cost  keep  .him  out  of  the  Doctor's 
way." 

But  fate,  which  rules  both  cats  and  tigers, 
had  ordained  otherwise.  One  day  Hildegarde 
had  gone  out  to  the  stable  to  give  a  message 
to  Jeremiah,  and  had  left  Benny  playing  by 
the  back  door,  where  Martha  had  promised  to 
"  have  an  eye  to  him "  as  she  shelled  the 
peas. 

On  her  return,  Hildegarde  found  that  the 
child  had  run  round  to  the  front  of  the  house ; 
and  she  followed  in  that  direction,  led  by 
the  sound  of  his  voice,  which  resounded  loud 
and  clear.  Whom  was  he  talking  to?  Hil- 
degarde wondered.  Rose  was  upstairs  writ- 
ing letters,  and  Cousin  Wealthy  was  taking 
a  nap.  But  now  the  words  were  plainly 


HILDEGARDE'S   HOLIDAY.  247 

audible.     "  Dee    ole  kitty !     Oh,   such  a-  dee 
ole  kitty !     Ole  fat  kyat,  I  lubby  you." 

Holding  her  breath,  Hildegarde  peeped 
round  the  corner  of  the  house.  There  on  the 
piazza,  lay  Dr.  Johnson,  fast  asleep  in  the  sun- 
shine ;  and  beside  him  stood  Benny,  regarding 
him  with  affectionate  satisfaction.  "  I  ain't 
seed  you  for  yever  so  long,  ole  fat  kyat !  "  he 
continued  ;  "  where  has  you  been  ?  You  is 
so  fat,  you  make  a  nice  pillow  for  Benny. 
Benny  go  to  sleep  with  ole  fat  kyat  for  a 
pillow."  And  to  Hildegarde's  mingled  horror 
and  amusement,  the  child  curled  himself  up 
on  the  piazza  floor,  and  deliberately  laid  his 
head  on  the  broad  black  side  of  the  sleeping 
lexicographer.  The  great  cat  opened  his 
yellow  eyes  with  a  start,  and  turned  his  head 
to  see  (:  what  thing  upon  his  back  had  got." 
There  was  a  moment  of  suspense.  Hilde- 
garde's first  impulse  was  to  rush  forward  and 
snatch  the  child  away  ;  her  second  was  to 


248  HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY. 

stand  perfectly  still.  "  Dee  ole  kitty  !  "  mur- 
mured Benny,  in  dulcet  tones.  "  P'ease  don't 
move  !  Benny  so  comfortable  !  Benny  lubs 
his  sweet  ole  pillow-kyat !  Go  to  s'eep  again, 
dee  ole  kitty  !  " 

The  Doctor  lay  motionless.  His  eyes  wan- 
dered over  the  little  figure,  the  small  hands 
nestled  in  his  own  thick  fur,  the  rosy  face 
which  smiled  at  him  with  dauntless  assurance. 
Who  shall  say  what  thoughts  passed  in  that 
moment  through  the  mind  of  the  representa- 
tive of  the  Royal  Bengal  Tiger?  Presently 
his  muscles  relaxed.  His  magnificent  tail, 
which  had  again  expanded  to  thrice  its  natu- 
ral size,  sank ;  he  uttered  a  faint  mew,  and 
the  next  moment  a  sound  fell  on  Hiklcgarde's 
ear,  like  the  distant  muttering  of  thunder,  or 
the  roll  of  the  surf  on  a  far-off  sea-beach. 
Dr.  Johnson  was  purring ! 

After  this  all  was  joy.  The  barriers  were 
removed,  and  the  child  and  the  cat  became 


HILDEGARDE'S    HOLIDAY.  249 

inseparable  companions.  Miss  Wealthy  beamed 
with  delight,  and  called  upon  the  girls  to 
observe  how,  in  this  most  remarkable  animal, 
intellect  had  triumphed  over  the  feline  na- 
ture. She  was  even  a  little  jealous,  when 
the  Doctor  forsook  his  hassock  beside  her 
chair  to  go  and  play  at  ball  with  Benny ;  but 
this  was  a  passing  feeling.  All  agreed,  how- 
ever, that  a  line  must  be  drawn  somewhere  j 
and  when  Benny  demanded  to  have  his  din- 
ner on  the  floor  with  his  "sweet  ole  kyat," 
four  heads  were  shaken  at  him  quite  severely, 
and  he  was  told  that  cats  were  good  to  play 
with,  but  not  to  eat  with.  In  spite  of  which 
Rose  was  horrified,  the  next  day,  to  find  him 
crouched  on  all-fours,  lapping  from  one  side 
of  the  Doctor's  saucer,  while  he,  purring 
like  a  Sound  steamer,  lapped  on  the  other. 

Benny  did  another  thing  one  day.  Oh, 
Benny  did  another  thing  !  Rose  was  teach- 
ing him  his  letters  in  the  parlor,  and  he  was 


250  HILDEGARDE'S   HOLIDAY. 

putting  them  into  metre,  as  he  was  apt  to 
put  everything,  — 

"4B,  C,D, 

Fiddle,  diddle, 
Yes,  I  see ! " 

And  with  each  emphasis  he  jumped  up  and 
down,  as  if  to  jolt  the  letters  into  his  head. 

"Try  to  stand  still,  Benny  dear!"  said 
gentle  Rose. 

But  Benny  said  he  could  n't  remember 
them  if  he  stood  still.  "  A,  B,  C.  D  !  E,  F, 
jiggle  G!"  This  time  he  jumped  backward, 
and  flung  his  arms  about  to  illustrate  the 
"jiggle;"  and  —  and  he  knocked  over  the 
peacock  glass  vase,  and  it  fell  on  the  marl  tie 
hearth,  and  broke  into  fifty  pieces.  Oh  !  it 
was  very  dreadful.  Mrs.  Grahame  had  brought 
the  peacock  vase  from  Paris  to  Miss  Wealthy, 
and  it  was  among  her  most  cherished  trifles  ; 
shaped  like  a  peacock,  with  outspread  tail, 
and  shining  with  beautiful  iridescent  tints 


HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY.  251 

of  green  and  blue.  Now  it  lay  in  glittering 
fragments  on  the  floor,  and  timid  Rose  felt 
as  if  she  were  too  wicked  to  live,  and  wished 
she  were  back  at  the  Farm,  where  there  were 
no  vases,  but  only  honest  blue  willow-ware. 

At  this  very  moment  the  door  opened, 
and  Miss  Wealthy  came  in.  Rose  shrank  back 
for  a  moment  behind  the  tall  Japanese  screen  ; 
not  to  conceal  herself,  but  to  gather  her 
strength  together  for  the  ordeal.  Her  long 
years  of  illness  had  left  her  sensitive  beyond 
description  ;  and  now,  though  she  knew  that 
she  had  done  nothing,  and  that  the  child 
would  meet  only  the  gentlest  of  plaintive  re- 
proofs, her  heart  was  beating  so  hard  that  she 
felt  suffocated,  her  cheeks  were  crimson,  her 
eyes  suffused  with  tears.  But  Benny  was 
equal  to  the  emergency.  His  cheeks  were 
very  red,  too,  and  his  eyes  opened  very  wide  ; 
but  he  went  straight  up  to  Miss  Wealthy  and 
said  in  a  clear,  high-pitched  voice,  - 


252  HILDEGARDE'S   HOLIDAY. 

"  I  Ve  broke  vat  glass  fing  which  was  a 
peacock.  I  'ra  sorry  I  broke  vat  glass  fing 
which  was  a  peacock.  I  should  n't  fink  you 
would  leave  glass  fings  round  for  little  boys 
to  hit  wiv  veir  little  hands  and  break  vem. 
You  is  old  enough  to  know  better  van  vat. 
I  know  you  is  old  enough,  'cause  you'  hair 
is  all  spoons,  and  people  is  old  when  veir 
hair  is  spoons,  —  I  mean  silver."  Having 
said  this  with  unfaltering  voice,  the  child 
suddenly  and  without  the  slightest  warn- 
ing burst  into  a  loud  roar,  and  cried  and 
screamed  and  sobbed  as  if  his  heart  would 
break. 

Rose  was  at  his  side  in  an  instant,  and 
told  the  story  of  the  accident.  And  Miss 
Wealthy,  after  one  pathetic  glance  at  the 
fragments  of  her  favorite  ornament,  fell  to 
wiping  the  little  fellow's  eyes  with  her  fine 
cambric  handkerchief,  and  telling  him  that 
it  was  "  no  matter!  no  matter  at  all,  dear! 


HILDEGARDE'S   HOLIDAY.  253 

Accidents  will  happen,  I  suppose ! "  she 
added,  turning  to  Rose  with  a  sad  little 
smile.  "  But,  my  dear,  pray  get  the  dust- 
pan at  once.  The  precious  child  might  get 
a  piece  of  glass  into  his  foot,  and  die  of 
lockjaw." 


254  HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY. 


CHAPTER   XIII. 

A    SURPRISE. 

IT  was  a  lovely  August  morning.  Hilde- 
garde  and  Rose  had  the  peas  to  shell  for 
dinner,  and  had  established  themselves  under 
the  great  elm-tree,  each  with  a  yellow  bowl 
and  a  blue-checked  apron.  Hildegarde  was 
moreover  armed  with  a  book,  for  .she  had 
found  out  one  can  read  and  shell  peas  at 
the  same  time,  and  some  of  their  pleasant- 
est  hours  were  passed  in  this  way,  the  pri- 
mary occupation  ranging  from  pea-shelling 
to  the  paring  of  rosy  apples  or  the  stoning 
of  raisins.  So  on  this  occasion  the  sharp 
crack  of  the  pods  and  the  soft  thud  of  the 


HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY.  255 

"  Champions  of  England "  against  the  bowl 
kept  time  with  Hildegarde's  voice,  as  she 
read  from  Lockhart's  ever-delightful  "  Life 
of  Scott."  The  girls  were  enjoying  the 
book  so  much  !  For  true  lovers  of  the 
great  Sir  Walter,  as  they  both  were,  what 
could  be  more  interesting  than  to  follow 
their  hero  through  the  varying  phases  of 
his  noble  life,  —  to  learn  how  and  where 
and  under  what  circumstances  each  noble 
poem  and  splendid  romance  was  written ; 
and  to  feel  through  his  own  spoken  or  writ- 
ten words  the  beating  of  one  of  the  great- 
est hearts  the  world  ever  knew. 

Hildegarde  paused  to  laugh,  after  reading 
the  description  of  the  first  visit  of  the  Ettrick 
Shepherd  to  the  Scotts  at  Lasswade  ;  when 
the  good  man,  seeing  Mrs.  Scott,  who  was  in 
delicate  health,  lying  on  a  sofa,  thought  he 
could  not  do  better  than  follow  his  hostess's 
example,  ;md  accordingly  stretched  himself 


256  HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY. 

at  full  length,  plaid  and  all,  on  another 
couch. 

"  What  an  extraordinary  man ! "  cried 
Rose,  greatly  amused.  "  How  could  he 
be  so  very  uncouth,  and  yet  write  the 
<  Skylark'?" 

".After  all,  he  was  a  plain,  rough  shep- 
herd ! "  replied  Hildegarde.  "  And  re- 
member, 

'  The  dewdrop  that  hangs  from  the  rowan  bough 
Is  fine  as  the  proudest  rose  can  show.' 

Leyden  was  a  shepherd,  too,  who  wrote  the 
'  Mermaid  '  that  I  read  you  the  other  day ; 
and  Burns  was  a  farmer's  boy.  What  won- 
derful people  the  Scots  are  !  " 

"  On  the  whole,"  said  Rose,  after  a  pause, 
"  perhaps  it  is  n't  so  strange  for  a  shepherd 
to  be  a  poet.  They  sit  all  day  out  in  the 
fields  all  alone  with  the  sky  and  the  sheep 
and  the  trees  and  flowers.  One  can  ima- 


HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY.  257 

gine  how  the  beauty  and  the  stillness  would 
sink  into  his  heart,  and  turn  into  music  and 
lovely  words  there.  No  one  ever  heard  of 
a  butcher-poet  or  a  baker-poet  —  at  least, 
I  never  did! — but  a  shepherd!  There  was 
the  Shepherd  Lord,  too,  that  you  told  me 
about,  and  the  Shepherd  of  Salisbury  Plain, 
in  a  funny  little  old  book  that  Father  had ; 
by  Hannah  More,  I  think  it  was.  And 
was  n't  there  a  shepherd  painter  ?  " 

"  Of  course  !  Giotto  !  "  cried  Hildegarde. 
"  He  was  only  ten  years  old  when  Cimabue 
found  him  drawing  a  sheep  on  a  smooth 
stone." 

"  It  was  in  one  of  my  school-readers," 
said  Rose.  "  Only  the  teacher  called  him 
Guy  Otto,  and  I  supposed  it  was  a  contrac- 
tion of  the  two  names,  for  convenience  in 
printing.  Then,"  she  added,  after  a  mo- 
ment, "  there  was  David,  when  he  was 
*  ruddy,  and  of  a  beautiful  countenance.* ' 

17 


258  HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY. 

"And  Apollo,"  cried  Hildegarde,  "when 
he  kept  the  flocks  of  Admetus,  you  know." 

•;  I  don't  know  !  "  said  Rose.  "  I  thought 
Apollo  was  the  god  of  the  sun." 

"So  he  was!"  replied  Hildegarde.  u  But 
Jupiter  WHS  once  angry  with  him,  and  ban- 
ished him  from  Olympus.  His  sun-chariot 
was  sent  round  the  sky  as  usual,  but  empty ; 
and  he,  poor  dear,  without  his  golden  rays, 
came  down  to  earth,  and  hired  himself  as. 
a  shepherd  to  King  Admetus  of  Thessaly. 
All  the  other  shepherds  were  very  wild  and 
savage,  but  Apollo  played  to  them  on  his 
lyre,  and  sang  of  all  the  beautiful  things 
in  the  world,  —  of  spring,  and  the  young 
grass,  and  the  birds,  and  —  oh  !  everything 
lovely.  So  at  last  he  made  them  gentle, 
like  himself,  and  taught  them  to  sing,  and 
play  on  the  flute,  and  to  love  their  life  and 
the  beautiful  world  they  lived  in.  And  so 
the  shepherds  became  the  happiest  people 


HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY.  259 

in  the  world,  and  the  most  skilful  in  playing 
and  singing,  and  in  shooting  with  bow  and 
arrows,  which  the  god  also  taught  them ;  till 
at  last  the  gods  were  jealous,  and  called 
Apollo  back  to  Olympus.  Isn't  it  a  pretty 
story  ?  I  read  it  in  f  Te*lemaque,'  at  school 
last  winter." 

"Lovely!"  said  Rose.  "Yes,  I  think  I 
should  like  to  be  a  shepherd."  And  straight- 
way she  fell  into  a  reverie,  this  foolish 
Rose,  and  fancied  herself  wrapped  in  a 
plaid,  lying  in  a  broad  meadow,  spread  with 
heather  as  with  a  mantle,  and  here  and 
there  gray  rocks,  and  sheep  moving  slowly 
about  nibbling  the  heather. 

And  as  Hildegarde  watched  her  pure  sweet 
face,  and  saw  it  soften  into  dreamy  languor 
and  then  kindle  again  with  some  bright 
thought,  another  poem  of  the  Ettrick  Shep- 
herd came  to  her  mind,  and  she  repeated 
the  opening  lines,  half  to  herself:  — 


260  HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY. 

"  Bonny  Kilmeny  gaed  up  the  glen ; 
But  it  wasna  to  meet  Duneira's  men, 
Nor  the  rosy  monk  of  the  isle  to  see, 
For  Kilmeny  was  pure  as  pure  could  be." 

"Oh,  go  on,  please!"  murmured  Rose, 
all  unconscious  that  she  was  the  Kilmeny 
of  her  friend's  thoughts :  — 

"  It  was  only  to  hear  the  yoiiin  sing, 
And  pu'  the  cress-flower  round  the  spring ; 
The  scarlet  hypp  and  the  hindberrye, 
And  the  nut  that  hung  f  rae  the  hazel-tree : 
For  Kilmeny  was  pure  as  pure  could  be. 
But  lang  may  her  minny  look  o'er  the  wa', 
And  lang  may  she  seek  i'  the  greenwood  shaw ; 
Lang  the  Laird  of  Duneira  blame, 
And  lang,  lang  greet  or  Kilmeny  come  hame. 

"  When  many  a  day  had  come  and  fled, 
When  grief  grew  calm,  and  hope  was  dead ; 
When  mass  for  Kilmeny's  soul  had  been  sung, 
When  the  bedesman  had  prayed  and  the  dead-bell 

rung ; 

Late,  late  in  a  gloamin',  when  all  was  still, 
When  the  fringe  was  red  on  the  westlin  hill, 
The  wood  was  sear,  the  moon  i'  the  wane, 


HILDEGARD'E'S   HOLIDAY.  261 

The  reek  o'  the  cot  hung  over  the  plain, 
Like  a  little  wee  cloud  in  the  world  its  lane  ; 
When  the  ingle  lowed  with  an  eiry  leme, 
Late,  late  in  the  gloamin'  Kilmeny  cam  hame." 


Here  Hildegarde  stopped  suddenly ;  for 
some  one  had  come  along  the  road,  and  was 
standing  still,  leaning  against  the  fence,  and 
apparently  listening.  It  was  a  boy  about 
eleven  years  old.  He  was  neatly  dressed, 
but  his  clothes  were  covered  with  dust,  and 
his  broad-brimmed  straw  hat  was  slouched 
over  his  eyes  so  that  it  nearly  hid  his  face, 
which  was  also  turned  away  from  the  girls. 
But  though  he  was  apparently  gazing  ear- 
nestly in  the  opposite  direction,  still  there 
was  an  air  of  consciousness  about  his  whole 
figure,  and  Hildegarde  was  quite  sure  that 
he  had  been  listening  to  her.  She  waited 
a  few  minutes;  and  then,  as  the  boy  showed 
no  sign  of  moving  on,  she  called  out,  "  What 
is  it,  please?  Do  you  want  something?" 


262  HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY. 

The  boy  made  an  awkward  movement 
with  his  shoulders,  and  without  turning 
round  replied  in  an  odd  voice,  half  whine, 
half  growl,  "  Got  any  cold  victuals, 
lady  ?  " 

"  Come  in  !  "  said  Hildegarde,  rising, 
though  she  was  not  attracted  either  by  the 
voice,  nor  by  the  lad's  shambling,  uncivil 
manner,  — "  come  in,  and  I  will  get  you 
something  to  eat." 

The  boy  still  kept  his  back  turned  to  her, 
but  began  sidling  slowly  toward  the  gate, 
with  a  clumsy,  crab-like  motion.  "  I  'm  a 
poor  feller,  lady ! "  he  whined,  in  the  same 
disagreeable  tone.  "  I  ain't  had  nothin'  to 
eat  for  a  week,  and  I  've  got  the  rheumatiz 
in  my  j'ints." 

" Nothing  to  eat  for  a  week!"  exclaimed 
Hildegarde,  severely.  "  My  boy,  you  are 
not  telling  the  truth.  And  who  ever  heard 
of  rheumatism  at  your  age  ?  Do  you  think 


HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY.  263 

we  ought  to  let  him  in,  Rose?"  she  added, 
in  a  lower  tone. 

But  the  boy  continued  still  sidling  toward 
the  gate.  "  I  've  got  a  wife  and  seven  little 
children,  lady  !  They  're  all  down  with  the 
small-pox  and  the  yeller  —  "  But  at  this 
point  his  eloquence  was  interrupted,  for 
Rose  sprang  from  her  seat,  upsetting  the 
basket  of  pods,  and  running  forward,  seized 
him  by  the  shoulders. 

"  You  scamp  !  "'  she  cried,  shaking  him 
with  tender  violence.  "  You  naughty  mon- 
key, how  could  you  frighten  us  so?  Oh, 
my  dear,  dear  little  lad,  how  do  you  do  ? " 
and  whirling  the  boy  round  and  tossing 
off  his  hat,  she  revealed  to  Hildegarde's 
astonished  gaze  the  freckled,  laughing  face 
and  merry  blue  eyes  of  Zerubbabel  Chirk. 

Bubble  was  highly  delighted  at  the  suc- 
cess of  his  ruse.  He  rubbed  his  hands  and 
chuckled,  then  went  down  on  all-fours  and 


264  HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY. 

began  picking  up  the  pea-pods.  "  Sorry  I 
made  you  upset  the  basket,  Pink  !  "  he 
said.  "  I  say  !  how  well  you  're  looking ! 
Isn't  she,  Miss  Hilda?  Oh!  I  didn't  sup- 
pose you  were  as  well  as  this." 

He  gazed  with  delighted  eyes  at  his  sis- 
ter's face,  on  which  the  fresh  pink  and 
white  told  a  pleasant  tale  of  health  and 
strength.  She  returned  his  look  with  one 
of  such  beaming  love  and  joy  that  Hilde- 
garde,  in  the  midst  of  her  own  heartfelt 
pleasure,  could  not  help  feeling  a  momen- 
tary pang.  "  If  my  baby  brother  had  only 
lived ! "  she  thought.  But  the  next  mo- 
ment she  was  shaking  Bubble  by  both 
hands,  and  telling  him  how  glad  she  was 
to  see  him. 

"  And  now  tell  us ! "  cried  both  girls,  pull- 
ing him  down  on  the  ground  between  them. 
"  Tell  us  all  about  it !  How  did  you  get 
here  ?  Where  do  you  come  from  ?  When 


HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY.  265 

did  you  leave  New  York  ?  What  have  you 
been  doing  ?  How  is  Dr.  Flower  ? " 

"  Guess  I  Ve  got  under  Niag'ry  Falls, 
by  mistake  !"  said  Bubble,  dryly.  "Let  me 
see,  now  !  "  He  rumpled  up  his  short  tow- 
colored  hair  with  his  favorite  gesture,  and 
meditated.  "  I  guess  I  '11  begin  at  the  be- 
ginning !  "  he  said.  "  Well-! "  (it  was  observ- 
able that  Bubble  no  longer  said  "  Wa-al ! " 
and  that  his  speech  had  improved  greatly 
during  the  year  spent  in  New  York,  though 
he  occasionally  dropped  back  into  his  for- 
mer broad  drawl.)  "  Well !  it 's  been  hot 
in  the  city.  I  tell  you,  it's  been  hot. 
Why,  Miss  Hilda,  I  never  knew  what  heat 
was  before." 

"  I  know  it  must  be  dreadful,  Bubble !  " 
said  Hildegarde.  "  I  have  never  been  in 
town  in  August,  but  I  can  imagine  what  it 

must  be." 

• 

"  I  really  don't  know.  Miss  Hilda,  whether 


266  HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY. 

you  can,"  returned  Bubble,  respectfully.  "  It 
isn't  like  any  heat  I  ever  felt  at  home.  Can 
you  imagine  your  brains  sizzling  in  your  head, 
like  a  kettle  boiling  ?  " 

"Oh,  don't,  Bubble!"  cried  Rose.    "Don't 
say  such  things  !  " 

"  Well,  it 's  true !  "  said  the  boy.  "  That 's 
exactly  the  way  it  felt.  It  was  like  being 
in  a  furnace,  —  a  white  furnace  in  the  day- 
time, and  a  black  one  at  night  ;  that  was 
all  the  difference.  I  had  my  head  shaved, 
—  it 's  growed  now,  but  I  'in  going  to  have 
it  done  again,  soon  as  I  get  back,  —  and 
wore  a  flannel  shirt  and  those  linen  pants 
you  made,  Pinkie.  I  tell  you  I  was  glad 
of  'em,  if  I  did  laugh  at  'em  at  first  —  and 
so  I  got  on.  I  wrote  you  that  Dr.  Flower 
had  taken  me  to  do  errands  for  him  during 
vacation  ?  "  The  girls  nodded.  "  Well,  I 
stayed  at  his  house,  —  it 's  a  jolly  house  !  - 
and  't  was  as  cool  there  as  anywhere.  I 


HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY.  267 

went  to  the  hospital  with  him  every  day, 
and  I  'm  going  to  be  a  surgeon,  and  he 
says  I  can." 

Hildegarde  smiled  approval,  and  Rose  pat- 
ted the  flaxen  head,  and  said,  "  Yes,  I  am 
sure  you  can,  dear  boy.  Do  you  remember 
how  you  set  the  chicken's  leg  last  year  ? " 

"  I  told  the  doctor  about  that,"  said  Bub- 
ble, "  and  he  said  I  did  it  right.  Was  n't  I 
proud !  I  held  accidents  for  him  two  or 
three  times  this  summer,"  he  added  proudly. 
"  It  never  made  me  faint  at  all,  though  it 
does  most  people  at  first." 

"Held  accidents?"  asked  Hildegarde,  in- 
nocently. "  What  do  you  mean,  laddie  ?  " 

"  People  hurt  in  accidents !  "  replied  the 
boy.  "  While  he  set  the  bones,  you  know. 
There  were  some  very  fine  ones !  "  and  he 
kindled  with  professional  enthusiasm.  "  There 
was  one  man  who  had  fallen  from  a  staging 
sixty  feet,  high,  and  was  all  —  " 


268  HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY. 

"  Don't !  don't ! "  cried  both  girls,  in  horror, 
putting  their  fingers  in  their  ears. 

"  We  don't  want  to  hear  about  it,  you 
dreadful  boy !  "  said  Hildegarde.  "  We  are 
not  going  to  be  surgeons,  be  good  enough  to 
remember." 

"  Oh,  it 's  all  right !  "  said  Bubble,  laugh- 
ing.  "  He  got  well,  and  is  about  on  crutches 
now.  Then  there  was  a  case  of  trepanning. 
Oh,  that  was  so  beautiful !  You  must  let  me 
tell  you  about  that.  You  see,  this  man  was 
a  sailor,  and  he  fell  from  the  top-gallantmast, 
and  struck  — "  But  here  Rose's  hand  was 
laid  resolutely  over  his  mouth,  and  he  was 
told  that  if  he  could  not  refrain  from  surgical 
anecdotes,  he  would  be  sent  back  to  New 
York  forthwith. 

"  All  right ! "  said  the  embryo  surgeon, 
with  a  sigh ;  "  only  they  Ye  about  all  I  have 
to  tell  that  is  really  interesting.  Well,  it 
grew  hotter  and  hotter.  Dr.  Flower  did  n't 


HILDEGARDE'S   HOLIDAY.  269 

seem  to  mind  the  heat  much ;  but  Jock  and 
I  —  well,  we  did." 

"  Oh,  my  dear  little  Jock  !  "  cried  Hilde- 
garde,  remorsefully.  "  To  think  of  my  never 
having  asked  for  him.  How  is  the  dear 
doggie  ?  " 

"  He  's  all  right  now,"  replied  Bubble. 
"  But  there  was  one  hot  spell  last  month, 
that  we  thought  would  finish  the  pup.  Hot  ? 
Well,  I  should  —  I  mean,  I  should  think  it 
was !  You  had  to  put  your  boots  down  cellar 
every  night,  or  else  they  'd  be  warped  so  you 
couldn't  put  'em  on  in  the  morning." 

"  Bubble  ! "  said  Hildegarde,  holding  up  a 
warning  finger.  But  Bubble  would  not  be 
repressed  again. 

"  Oh,  Miss  Hilda,  you  don't  know  anything 
about  it !  "  he  said  ;  "  excuse  me,  but  really 
you  don't.  The  sidewalks  were  so  hot,  the 
bakers  just  put  their  dough  out  on  them,  and 
it  was  baked  in  a  few  minutes.  All  the 


270  HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY. 

Fifth  Avenue  folks  had  fountain  attachments 
put  on  to  their  carriages,  and  sprinkled  them- 
selves with  iced  lavender  water  and  odycolone 
as  they  drove  along  ;  and  the  bronze  statue 
in  Union  Square  melted  and  ran  all  over  the 
lot." 

"  Rose,  what  shall  we  do  to  this  boy  ? " 
cried  Hildegarde,  as  the  youthful  Munchausen 
paused  for  breath.  "  And  you  are  n't  telling 
me  a  word  about  my  precious  Jock,  you  little 
wretch  !  " 

"  One  night,"  Bubble  resumed,  —  "I 'm  in 
earnest  now,  Miss  Hilda,  —  one  night  it 
seemed  as  if  there  was  no  air  to  breathe ;  as 
if  we  was  just  taking  red-hot  dust  into  our 
lungs.  Poor  little  Jock  seemed  very  sick ; 
he  lay  and  moaned  and  moaned,  like  a  baby, 
and  kept  looking  from  the  doctor  to  me,  as 
if  he  was  asking  us  to  help  him.  I  was 
pretty  nigh  beat  out,  too,  and  even  the  doctor 
seemed  fagged ;  but  we  could  stand  it  better 


HILDEGARDE'S   HOLIDAY.  271 

than  the  poor  little  beast  could.  I  sat  and 
fanned  him,  but  that  did  n't  help  him  much, 
the  air  was  so  hot.  Then  the  doctor  sent  me 
for  some  cracked  ice,  and  we  put  it  on  his 
head  and  neck,  and  that  took  hold  !  l  The 
dog 's  in  a  fever ! '  says  the  doctor.  •'  We 
must  watch  him  to-night,  and  if  he  pulls 
through,  T  '11  see  to  him  in  the  morning,' 
says  he.  Well,  we  spent  that  night  taking 
turns,  putting  ice  on  that  dog's  head,  and 
fanning  him,  and  giving  him  water." 

"  My  dear  Bubble  !  "  said  Hildegarde,  her 
eyes  full  of  tears.  "  Dear  good  boy  !  and 
kindest  doctor  in  the  world !  How  sha'il  I 
thank  you  both?" 

"  We  were  n't  going  to  let  him  die,"  said 
Bubble,  "  after  the  way  you  saved  his  life 
last  summer,  Miss  Hilda.  Well,  he  did  pull 
through,  and  so  did  we ;  but  I  was  pretty 
shaky,  and  the  morning  came  red-hot.  The 
sun  was  like  copper  when  it  rose,  and  there 


272  HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY. 

seemed  to  be  a  sort  of  haze  of  heat,  just  pure 
heat,  hanging  over  the  city.  And  Dr.  Flower 
says,  '  You  're  going  to  git  out  o'  this !  ' 
says  he." 

I 

"  I  don't  believe  he  said  anything  of  the 
kind ! "  interrupted  Rose,  who  regarded  Dr. 
Flower  as  a  combination  of  Bayard,  Sidney, 
and  the  Admirable  Crichton. 

"  Well,  it  came  to  the  same  thing ! "  re- 
torted Bubble,  unabashed.  "  Anyhow,  we  took 
the  first  train  after  breakfast  for  Gleufield." 

"  Oh,  oh,  Bubble  !  "  cried  both  girls, 
eagerly.  "  Not  really  ?  " 

"  Yes,  really  !  "  said  Bubble.  "  I  got  to 
the  Farm  about  ten  o'clock,  and  went  up  and 
knocked  at  the  front  door,  thinking  I  'd  give 
Mrs.  Hartley  a  surprise,  same  as  I  did  you 
just  now;  but  nobody  came,  so  I  went  in. 
and  found  not  a  soul  in  the  house.  But  I 
knowed  —  I  knew  she  could  n't  be  far  off ; 
for  her  knitting  lay  on  the  table,  and  the 


HILDEGARDE'S   HOLIDAY.  273 

beans  —  it  was  Saturday  —  were  in  the  pot, 
simmering  away.  So  I  sat  down  in  the  far- 
mer's big  chair,  and  looked  about  me.  Oh, 
I  tell  you,  Miss  Hilda,  it  seemed  good  ! 
There  was  the  back  door  open,  and  the  hens 
picking  round  the  big  doorstep,  just  the  way 
they  used,  and  the  great  willow  tapping 
against  the  window,  and  a  pile  of  Summer 
Sweetings  on  the  shelf,  all  warm  in  the  sun- 
shine, you  know, — only  you  weren't  there, 
and  I  kept  kind  o'  hoping  you  would  come 
in.  Do  you  remember,  one  day  I  wanted 
one  of  them  Sweetings,  and  you  would  n't 
give  me  one  till  I  'd  told  you  about  all  the 
famous  apples  I'd  ever  heard  of?" 

"  No,  you  funny  boy !  "  said  Hildegarde, 
laughing.  "  I  have  forgotten  about  it." 

"  Well,  I  hain't  —  have  n't,  I  mean  !  "  said 
the  boy.  "  I  could  n't  think  of  a  single  one, 
'cept  William  Tell's  apple,  and  Adam  and 
Eve,  of  course,  and  three  that  Lawyer 

13 


274  HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY. 

Clinch's  red  cow  choked  herself  with  try- 
ing to  swallow  'em  all  at  once,  being  greedy, 
like  the  man  that  owned  her.  So  you  gave 
me  the  apple,  gave  me  two  or  three ;  and 
while  I  was  eating  'em,  you  told  me  about 
the  Hespe rides  ones,  and  the  apple  of  dis- 
cord, and  that  —  that  young  woman  who 
ran  the  race:  what  was  her  name?  —  some 
capital  of  a  Southern  State  !  Milledgeville, 
was  it?" 

"Atlanta!"  cried  Hildegarde,  bursting  into 
a  peal  of  laughter ;  and  "  Atlanta !  you 
goosey !  "  exclaimed  Rose,  pretending  to 
box  the  boy's  ears.  "And  it  wasn't  named 
for  Atalanta  at  all,  was  it,  Hildegarde  ?  " 

"No!"  said  the  .latter,  still  laughing 
heartily.  "  Bubble,  it  is  delightful  to  hear 
your  nonsense  again.  But  go  on,  and  tell 
us  about  the  dear  good  friends." 

"I'm  coming  to  them  in  a  minute,"  said 
Bubble;  "but  I  must  just  tell  you  about 


HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY.  275 

Jock  first.  You  never  saw  a  dog  so  pleased 
in  all  your  life.  He  went  sniffing  and  smell- 
ing about,  and  barking  those  little,  short 
'Waffs !'  as  he  does  when  he  is  tickled 
about  anything.  Then  he.  went  to  look  for 
his  plate.  But  it  was  n't  there,  of  course  ;  so 
he  ran  out  to  see  the  hens,  and  pass  the 
time  o'  day  with  them.  They  did  n't  mind 
him  much ;  but  all  of  a  sudden  a  cat  came 
out  from  the  woodshed,  - —  a  strange  cat,  who 
didn't  know  Jock  from  a  —  from  an  ele- 
phant. Up  went  her  back,  and  out  went 
her  tail,  and  she  growled  and  spit  like  a 
good  one.  Of  course  Jock  could  n't  stand 
that,  so  he  gave  a  '  ki-hi ! '  and  after  her. 
They  made  time  round  that  yard,  now  I 
tell  you !  The  hens  scuttled  off,  clucking 
as  if  all  the  foxes  in  the  county  had  broke 
loose;  and  for  a  minute  or  two  it  seemed  as 
if  there  was  two  or  three  dogs  and  half-a- 
dozen  cats.  Well,  sir  !  —  I  mean,  ma'am  !  at 


276  HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY. 

last  the  cat  made  a  bolt,  and  up  the  big 
maple  by  the  horse-trough.  I  thought  she 
was  safe  then ;  but  Jock,  he  gave  a  spring 
and  caught  hold  of  the  eend  of  her  tail, 
and  down  they  both  come,  kerwumpus,  on 
to  the  ground,  and  rolled  eend  over  eend." 
(It  was  observable  that  in  the  heat  of  nar- 
ration Bubble  dropped  his  school  English, 
and  reverted  to  the  vernacular  of  Glenfield.) 
"  But  that  was  more  than  the  old  cat  could 
stand,  and  she  turned  and  went  for  him. 
Ha,  ha !  't  was  *  ki,  hi ! '  out  of  the  other  side 
of  his  mouth  then,  I  tell  ye,  Miss  Hildy ! 
You  never  see  a  dog  so  scairt.  And  jest 
then,  as  'twould  happen,  Mis'  Hartley  came 
in  from  the  barn  with  a  basket  of  eggs,  and 
you  may  —  you  may  talk  Greek  to  me,  if 
that  pup  did  n't  bolt  right  into  her,  so  hard 
that  she  sat  down  suddent  on  the  doorstep, 
and  the  eggs  rolled  every  which  way.  Then 
I  caught  him;  and  the  cat,  she  lit  out  some- 


HILDEGARDE'S   HOLIDAY.  277 

where,  quicker  'n  a  wink,  and  Mis'  Hartley 
sat  up,  and  says  she,  i  Well,  of  all  the 
world !  Zerubbabel  Chirk,  you  may  just 
pick  up  them  eggs,  if  you  did  drop  from 
the  moon  !  ' 


278  HILDEGARDE'S   HOLIDAY. 


CHAPTER   XIV. 

TELEMACHUS    GOES   A-FISHING. 

AT  this  point  Bubble's  narrative  was  in- 
terrupted by  the  appearance  of  Martha, 
making  demand  for  her  peas.  Bubble  was 
duly  presented  to  her;  and  she  beamed  on 
him  through  her  spectacles,  and  was  de- 
lighted to  see  him,  and  quite  sure  he  must 
be  very  hungry. 

"  I  never  thought  of  that !  "  cried  Hilde- 
garde,  remorsefully.  "  When  did  you  have 
breakfast,  and  have  you  had  anything  to  eat 
since  ?  " 

Bubble  had  had  breakfast  at  half-past  six, 
and  had  had  nothing  since.  The  girls  were 
horrified. 


HILDEGARDE'S   HOLIDAY.  279 

"  Come  into  the  kitchen  this  minute !  " 
said  Martha,  imperatively.  So  he  did ;  and 
the  next  minute  he  was  looking  upon  cold 
beef  and  johnny-cake  and  apple-pie,  and  a 
pile  of  doughnuts  over  which  he  could  hardly 
see  Martha's  anxious  face  as  she  asked  if 
he  thought  that  would  stay  him  till  dinner. 
"  For  boys  are  boys !  "  she  added,  impres- 
sively, turning  to  Hildegarde ;  "  and  girls 
they  are  not,  nor  won't  be." 

When  he  had  eaten  all  that  even  a  hungry 
boy  could  possibly  eat,  Bubble  was  carried 
off  to  be  introduced  to  Miss  Wealthy.  She, 
too,  was  delighted  to  see  him,  and  made  him 
more  than  welcome ;  and  when  he  spoke  of 
staying  a  day  or  two  in  the  neighborhood, 
and  asked  if  he  could  get  a  room  nearer  than 
the  village,  she  was  quite  severe  with  him, 
forbade  him  to  mention  the  subject  again, 
and  sent  Martha  to  show  him  the  little  room 
in  the  ell.  where  she  said  he  could  be  com- 


280  HILDEGARDE'S   HOLIDAY. 

fort-able,  and  the  longer  he  stayed  the  better. 
It  was  the  neatest,  cosiest  little  room,  just  big 
enough  for  a  boy,  the  girls  said  with  delight, 
when  they  went  to  inspect  it.  The  walls 
were  painted  bright  blue,  which  had  rather 
a  peculiar  effect ;  but  Martha  explained  that 
Jeremiah  had  half  a  pot  of  blue  paint  left 
after  painting  the  wheelbarrow  and  the  pails, 
and  thought  he  might  as  well  use  it  up. 
Apparently  the  half  pot  gave  out  before 
Jeremiah  came  to  the  chairs,  for  one  of  them 
was  yellow,  while  the'other  had  red  legs  and 
a  white  seat  and  back.  But  the  whole  effect 
was  very  cheerful  and  pleasant,  and  Bubble 
was  enchanted. 

The  girls  left  him  to  wash  his  face  and 
hands,  and  brush  the  roadside  dust  from  his 
clothes.  As  he  was  plunging  his  face  into  the 
cool,  sparkling  water  in  the  blue  china  basin, 
he  heard  a  small  but  decided  voice  addressing 
him  ;  and  looking  up,  became  aware  of  a  person 


HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY.  281 

in  kilts  standing  in  the  doorway  and  survey- 
ing him  with  manifest  disapprobation. 

"  Hello,  young  un !  "  said  Bubble,  cheerily. 
"  How  goes  the  world  with  you  ?  " 

"  Vat  basin  ain't  your  basin  !  "  responded 
the  person  in  kilts,  with  great  severity. 

Bubble  looked  from  him  to  the  basin,  and 
back  again,  with  amused  perplexity.  "  Oh  ! 
it  is  n't,  eh  ?  "  he  said.  "Well,  that 's  a  pity, 
isn't  it?" 

"  Vis  room  ain't  your  room  !  "  continued 
the  new-comer,  with  increased  sternness ; 
"  vis  bed  ain't  your  bed !  I  's  ve  boy  of  vis 
house.  Go  out  of  ve  back  door!  Go  'WAY  !  " 

At  the  last  word  Benny  stamped  his  foot, 
and  raised  his  voice  to  a  roar  which  fairly 
startled  his  hearer.  Bubble  regarded  him 
steadfastly  for  a  moment,  and  then  sat  down 
on  the  bed  and  began  feeling  in  his  pockets. 
"  I  found  something  so  funny  to-day ! "  he 
said.  "  I  was  walking  along  the  road  —  " 


282  HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY. 

"  Go  out  of  ve  back  door ! "  repeated 
Benny,  in  an  appalling  shout. 

"And  I  came,"  continued  Bubble,  in  easy, 
conversational  tones,  regardless  of  the  vindic- 
tive glare  of  the  blue  eyes  fixed  upon  him, — 
"  I  came  to  a  great  bed  of  blue  clay.  Not  a 
bed  like  this,  you  know."  -for  Benny's  glare 
was  now  intensified  by  the  expression  of 
scorn  and  incredulity,  —  "but  just  a  lot  of  it 
in  the  road  and  up  the  side  of  the  ditch.  So 
I  sat  down  on  the  bank  to  rest  a  little,  and  I 
made  some  marbles.  See ! "  he  drew  from 
his  pocket  some  very  respectable  marbles, 
and  dropped  them  on  the  quilt,  where  they 
rolled  about  in  an  enticing  manner.  Benny 
was  opening  his  mouth  for  another  roar ;  but 
at  sight  of  the  marbles  he  shut  it  again,  and 
put  his  hand  in  his  kilt  pocket  instinctively. 
But  there  were  no  marbles  in  his  pocket. 

"  Then,"  Bubble  went  on.  taking  apparently 
no  notice  of  him,  "  I  thought  1  would  make 


HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY.  283 

some  other  things,  because  I  did  n't  know 
but  I  might  meet  some  boy  who  liked 
things."  Benny  edged  a  little  nearer  the 
bed,  but  spoke  no  word.  "So  I  made  a 
pear,"  —  he  took  the  pear  out  and  laid  it 
on  the  bed,  —  "  and  a  hen,"  —  the  hen  lay 
beside  the  pear,  — "  and  a  bee-hive,  and  a 
mouse ;  only  the  mouse's  tail  broke  off." 
He  laid  the  delightful  things  all  side  by  side 
on  the  bed.  and  arranged  the  marbles  round 
them  in  a  circle.  "  And  look  here ! "  he 
added,  looking  up  suddenly,  as  if  a  bright 
idea  had  struck  him ;  "  if  you  '11  let  me  stay 
here  a  bit,  1  '11  give  you  all  these,  and  teach 
you  to  play  ring-taw  too !  Come  now ! " 
His  bright  smile,  combined  with  the  treasures 
on  the  bed,  was  irresistible.  Benny's  mouth 
quivered  ;  then  the  corners  went  np,  up,  and 
the  next  moment  he  was  sitting  on  the  bed, 
chuckling  over  the  hen  and  the  marbles,  and 
the  two  had  known  each  other  for  years. 


284  HILDEGARDE'S   HOLIDAY. 

"  But  look  here  !  "  said  the  person  in  kilts, 
breaking  off  suddenly  in  an  animated  descrip- 
tion of  the  brown  crockery  cow,  "yon  must 
carry  me  about  on  your  back  ! " 

"Why,  of  course!"  responded  Bubble. 
"  What  do  you  suppose  I  come  here  for  ?  " 

"  And  go  on  all-fours  when  I  want  you 
to ! "  persisted  the  small  tyrant.  "  'Cause 
Jeremiah  has  a  bone  in  his  leg,  and 
them  girls  "  —  oh,  black  ingratitude  of 
childhood!  —  "won't.  I  don't  need  you  for 
a  pillow,  'cause  I  has  my  sweet  old  fat  kyat 
for  a  pillow." 

"Naturally!"  said  Bubble.  "But  if  you 
should  want  a  bolster  any  time,  just  let  me 
know." 

"  Because  I 's  ve  boy  of  ve  house,  you 
see ! "  said  Benny,  in  a  tone  of  relief. 

"You  are  that!"  responded  Bubble,  with 
great  heartiness. 

By   general   consent,    the    second    half   of 


HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY.  285 

Zerubbabel's  narrative  was  reserved  for  the 
evening,  when  Miss  Wealthy  could  hear  and 
enjoy  it.  Hildegarde  and  Rose,  of  course, 
found  out  all  about  their  kind  friends  at  the 
Farm ;  and  the  former  looked  very  grave 
when  she  heard  that  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hartley 
were  expecting  Rose  without  fail  early  in 
September,  and  were  counting  the  days  till 
her  return.  But  she  resolutely  shook  off  all 
selfish  thoughts,  and  entered  heartily  into 
the  pleasure  of  doing  the  honors  of  the  place 
for  the  new-comer. 

Bubble  was  delighted  with  everything. 
It  was  the  prettiest  place  he  had  ever  seen. 
There  never  was  such  a  garden ;  there  never 
were  such  apple-trees,  "except  the  Red  Russet 
tree  at  the  Farm ! "  he  said.  "  That  tree  is 
hard  to  beat.  'Member  it,  Miss  Hilda,  — 
great  big  tree,  down  by  the  barn  ? " 

"Indeed  I  do!"  said  Hilda.  "Those  are 
the  best  apples  in  the  world,  I  think;  and 


286  HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY. 

so  beautiful,  —  all  golden  brown,  with  the 
bright  scarlet  patch  on  one  cheek.  Dear 
apples !  I  wish  I  might  have  some  this  fall." 

Bubble  smiled,  knowing  that  Farmer  Hart- 
ley was  counting  upon  sending  his  best  bar- 
rel of  Russets  to  his  favorite  "  Huldy ; "  but 
preserved  a  discreet  silence,  and  they  went 
on  down  to  the  boat-house. 

When  evening  came,  the  group  round  the 
parlor- table  was  a  very  pleasant  one  to  see. 
Miss  Wealthy's  chair  was  drawn  up  near  the 
light,  and  she  had  her  best  cap  on,  and  her 
evening  knitting,  which  was  something  as 
soft  and  white  and  light  as  the  steam  of  the 
tea-kettle.  Near  her  sat  Hildegarde,  wear- 
ing a  gown  of  soft  white  woollen  stuff. 
which  set  off  her  clear,  fresh  beauty  well. 
She  was  dressing  a  doll,  which  she  meant 
to  slip  into  the  next  box  of  flowers  that 
went  to  the  hospital,  for  a  little  girl  who 
was  just  getting  well  enough  to  \v;nit  '•  some- 


HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY.  287 

thing  to  cuddle;"  and  her  lap  was  full 
of  rainbow  fragments  of  silk  and  velvet, 
the  result  of  Cousin  Wealthy's  search  in  one 
of  her  numerous  piece-bags.  On  the  other 
side  of  the  table  sat  Rose,  looking  very  like 
her  name-flower  in  her  pale-pink  dress; 
while  Bubble,  on  a  stool  beside  her,  rested 
his  arm  on  his  sister's  knee,  and  looked  the 
very  embodiment  of  content.  A  tiny  fire 
was  crackling  on  the  hearth,  even  though  it 
was  still  August ;  for  Miss  Wealthy  thought 
the  evening  mist  from  the  river  was  danger- 
ous, and  dried  her  air  as  carefully  as  she 
did  her  linen.  Dr.  Johnson  was  curled  on 
his  hassock  beside  the  fire  ;  Benny  was  safe 
in  bed. 

"  And  now,  Bubble,"  said  Hildegarde,  with 
a  little  sigh  of  satisfaction  as  she  looked 
around  and  thought  how  cosey  and  pleasant 
it  all  was,  "now  you  shall  tell  us  about  your 
fishing  excursion." 


288  HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY. 

"  Well,"  said  Bubble,  nothing  loath,  "  it 
was  this  way,  you  see.  When  I  came  back 
from  the  Farm,  leaving  Jock  there,  I  found 
the  doctor  in  his  study,  and  the  whole  room 
full  of  rods  and  lines  and  reels,  and  all  kinds 
of  truck  ;  and  he  was  playing  with  the  queer- 
est things  I  ever  saw  in  my  life,  —  bits  of 
feather  and  wool,  and  I  don't  know  what 
not,  with  hooks  in  them.  When  he  called 
me  to  come  and  look  at  his  flies  I  was  all  up 
a  tree,  and  did  n't  know  what  he  was  talking 
about;  but  he  told  me  about  'em,  and  showed 
ine,  and  then  says  he,  '  I  'm  going  a-fishing, 
Bubble,  and  I  'm  going  to  take  you,  if  you 
want  to  go.'  Well,  I  did  n't  leave  much  doubt 
in  his  mind  about  that.  Fishing  !  Well,  you 
know,  Pinkie,  there  's  nothing  like  it,  after 
all.  So  we  started  next  morning,  Doctor  and 
I,  and  three  other  fel  —  I  mean  gentlemen. 
Two  of  'em  was  doctors,  and  the  third  was 
a  funny  little  man,  not  much  bigger 'n  me. 


HILDEGARDE'S   HOLIDAY.  289 

I  wish  't  you  could  ha'  seen  us  start!  Truck? 
Well,  I  should  —  say  so  !  Rods,  and  baskets, 
and  bait-boxes,  and  rugs,  and  pillows,  and 
canned  things,  and  camp-stools,  and  tents, 
and  a  cooking-stove,  and  a  barrel  of  beer, 
and  —  " 

"How  much  of  this  are  you  making  up, 
young  man?"  inquired  Hildegarde,  calmly; 
while  Miss  Wealthy  paused  in  her  knitting, 
and  looked  over  her  spectacles  at  Bubble  in 
mild  amazement. 

"  Not  one  word,  Miss  Hilda  !  "  replied  the 
boy,  earnestly.  "  Sure  as  you  're  sitting  there, 
we  did  start  with  all  them  —  those  things. 
Doctor,  of  course,  knew  't  was  all  nonsense, 
and  he  kept  telling  the  others  so ;  but  they 
was  bound  to  have  'em ;  and  the  little  man, 
he  would  n't  be  separated  from  that  beer- 
barrel,  not  for  gold.  However,  it  all  turned 
out  right.  We  were  bound  for  Tapsco  stream, 
you  see ;  and  when  we  came  to  the  end  of 

19 


290  HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY. 

the  railroad,  we  hired  a  sledge  and  a  yoke 
of  oxen,  and  started  for  the  woods.  Seven 
miles  the  folks  there  told  us  it  was,  but  it 
took  us  two  whole  days  to  do  it ;  and  by  the 
time  we  got  to  the  stream,  the  city  chaps,  all 
'cept  Dr.  Flower  (and  he  really  ain't  half  a 
city  chap !)  were  pretty  well  tired  out,  I 
can  tell  you.  Breaking  through  the  bushes, 
stumbling  over  stumps  and  stones,  and  h'ist- 
ing  a  loaded  sledge  over  the  worst  places, 
was  n't  exactly  what  they  had  expected ;  for 
none  of  'em  but  the  doctor  had  been  in  the 
woods  before.  Well,  we  got  to  the  stream  ; 
and  there  was. the  man  who  was  going  to  be 
our  guide  and  cook,  and  all  that.  He  had 
two  canoes,  —  a  big  one  and  a  little  one  ;  he 
was  going  to  paddle  one,  and  one  of  us  the 
other.  Well,  the  little  man  —  his  name  was 
Packard  —  said  he  'd  paddle  the  small  canoe, 
and  take  the  stove  and  the  beer-barrel, '  'cause 
they  '11  need  careful  handling,'  says  he.  The 


HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY.  291 

old  guide  looked  at  him,  when  he  said  that, 
pretty  sharp,  but  he  did  n't  say  nothing  ;  and 
the  rest  of  us  got  into  the  other  canoe  with 
the  rest  of  the  truck,  after  we  'd  put  in  his 
load.  We  started  ahead,  and  Mr.  Packard 
came  after,  paddling  as  proud  as  could  be, 
with  his  barrel  in  the  bow,  and  he  and  the 
stove  in  the  stern.  I  wish  't  you  could  ha' 
seen  him,  Miss  Hilda !  I  tell  you  he  was  a 
sight,  with  his  chin  up  in  the  air,  and  his 
mouth  open.  Presently  we  heard  him  say, 
'  This  position  becomes  irksome ;  I  think  I 
will  change  '  —  but  that  was  all  he  had  time 
to  say ;  for  before  the  guide  could  holler  to 
him,  he  had  moved,  and  over  he  went,  boat 
and  barrel  and  stove  and  all.  Ha !  ha !  ha ! 
Oh,  my !  if  that  was  n't  the  most  comical 
sight  —  " 

"  Oh,  but,  Bubble,"  cried  Hildegarde,  has- 
tily, as  a  quick  glance  showed  her  that  Miss 
Wealthy  had  turned  pale,  dropped  her  knit- 


292  HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY. 

ting,  and  put  her  hand  up  to  the  pansy  brooch, 

"  he  was  n't  hurt,  was  he  ?    Poor  little  man  !  " 

• 

"Hurt?  not  a  mite!"  responded  Bubble. 
"  He  come  up  next  minute,  puffing  and 
blowing  like  a  two-ton  grampus,  and  struck 
out  for  our  canoe.  We  were  all  laughing  so 
we  could  hardly  stir  to  help  him  in ;  but  the 
doctor  hauled  him  over  the  side,  and  then 
we  paddled  over  and  righted  his  canoe.  He 
was  in  a  great  state  of  mind !  '  You  ought 
to  be  indicted,'  he  says  to  the  guide,  '  for 
having  such  a  canoe  as  that.  It 's  infamous ! 
it 's  atrocious  !  I  —  I  —  I  —  how  dare  you, 
sir,  give  me  such  a  rickety  eggshell  and  call 
it  a  boat  ? '  Old  Marks,  the  guide,  looked  at 
him  again,  and  did  n't  say  anything  for  a 
while,  but  just  kept  on  paddling.  At  last  he 
says,  very  slow,  as  he  always  speaks,  '  I  — 
guess  —  it 's  all  right,  Squire.  This  is  a 
prohibition  State,  you  know ;  and  that 's  a 
prohibition  boat,  that  's  all.'  Well,  there 


HILDEGARDE'S   HOLIDAY.  293 

was  some  talk  about  fishing  the  things  up ; 
but  there  was  no  way  of  doing  it,  and  Dr. 
Flower  said,  anyhow,  he  did  n't  come  to  fish 
for  barrels  nor  yet  for  cook-stoves ;  so  we 
went  on,  and  there  they  be  —  are  yet,  I 
suppose.  Bimeby  we  came  to  Marks's  camp, 
where  we  were  to  stay.  It  was  a  bark  lean- 
to,  big  enough  for  us  all,  with  a  nice  fire 
burning,  and  all  comfortable.  Doctor  and 
I  liked  it  first-rate  ;  but  the  city  chaps,  — 
they  said  they  must  have  their  tents  up, 
so  we  spent  a  good  part  of  a  day  getting  the 
things  up." 

"  And  were  they  more  comfortable  ?  " 
asked  Rose.  •'  I  suppose  the  gentlemen  were 
not  used  to  roughing  it." 

"  Humph  !  "  responded  Bubble,  with  sov- 
ereign contempt.  "  Mr.  Packard  set  his  afire, 
trying  to  build  what  he  called  a  scientific  fire, 
and  came  near  burning  himself  up,  and  the 
rest  of  us,  let  alone  the  whole  woods.  And 


294  HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY. 

the  second  night  it  came  on  to  rain,  —  my  ! 
how  it  did  rain  !  and  the  second  tent  was 
wet  through,  and  they  were  all  mighty  glad 
to  come  into  the  lean-to  !  " 

"  This  seems  to  have  been  a  severe  expe- 
rience, my  lad,"  said  Miss  Wealthy,  with 
gentle  sympathy.  "  I  trust  that  none  of 
the  party  suffered  in  health  from  all  this 
exposure." 

"  Oh,  no,  ma'am !  "  Bubble  hastened  to 
assure  her.  "  It  was  splendid  fun  !  splendid  ! 
I  never  had  such  a  good  time.  I  could  fish 
for  a  year  without  stopping,  I  do  believe." 

Miss  Wealthy's  sympathetic  look  changed 
to  one  of  mild  disapproval,  for  she  did  not 
like  what  she  called  "  violent  sentiments." 
"  So  exaggerated  a  statement,  my  boy/'  she 
said  gently,  "  is  doubtless  not  meant  to  be 
taken  literally.  Fishing,  or  angling,  to  use  a 
more  elegant  word,  seems  to  be  a  sport  which 
gives  great  pleasure  to  those  who  pursue  it. 


HILDEGAKDE'S  HOLIDAY.  295 

Dr.  Johnson,  it  is  true,  spoke  slightingly  of 
it,  and  described  a  fishing-rod  as  a  stick  with 
a  hook  at  one  end,  and  —  ahem  !  he  was 
probably  in  jest,  my  dears  —  a  fool  at  the 
other.  But  Izaak  Walton  was  a  meek  and 
devout  person ;  and  my  dear  father  was  fond 
of  angling,  and  —  and  —  others  I  have  known. 
Go  on,  my  lad,  with  your  lively  description." 

Poor  Bubble  was  so  abashed  by  this  little 
dissertation  that  his  liveliness  seemed  to  have 
deserted  him  entirely  for  the  moment.  He 
hung  his  head,  and  looked  so  piteously  at 
Hiklegarde  that  she  was  obliged  to  take 
refuge  in  a  fit  of  coughing,  which  made  Miss 
Wealthy  exclaim  anxiously  that  she  feared 
she  had  taken  cold. 

"  Go  on,  Bubble  !  "  said  Hildegarde,  as 
soon  as  she  had  recovered  herself,  nodding 
imperatively  to  him.  "  How  many  fish  did 
you  catch  ?  " 

"Oh,    a   great   many!-"   replied    the   boy, 


296  HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY. 

rather  soberly.  "  Dr.  Flower  is  a  first-rate 
fisherman,  and  he  caught  a  lot  every  day  ; 
and  the  other  two  doctors  caught  some. 
But  Mr.  Packard,"  —  here  his  eyes  began  to 
twinkle  again,  and  his  voice  took  on  its  usual 
cheerful  ring,  —  "  poor  Mr.  Packard,  he  did 
have  hard  luck.  The  first  time  he  threw  a 
fly  it  caught  in  a  tree,  and  got  all  tangled 
up,  so  't  he  was  an  hour  and  more  getting 
his  line  free.  Then  he  thought  't  would  be 
better  on  the  other  side  of  the  stream ;  so 
he  started  to  cross  over,  and  stepped  into 
a  deep  hole,  and  down  he  sat  with  a  splash, 
and  one  of  his  rubber  boots  came  off,  and 
he  dropped  his  rod.  Of  all  the  unlucky 
people  I  ever  saw !  I  tell  you,  5t  was  enough 
to  make  a  frog  laugh  to  see  him  fish ! 
Then,  of  course,  he  'd  got  the  water  all 
riled  —  " 

"  All  —  I    beg   your   pardon  ?  —  riled  ?  ': 
asked  Miss  Wealthy,   innocently. 


HILDEGAKDE'S  HOLIDAY.  297 

"All  muddy!"  said  Bubble,  hastily;  "so 
he  could  n't  fish  there  no  more  for  one  while. 
And  just  then  I  happened  to  come  along 
with  a  string  of  trout  —  ten  of  'em,  and 
perfect  beauties !  —  that  I  'd  caught  with  a 
string  and  a  crooked  pin ;  and  that  seemed 
to  finish  Mr.  Packard  entirely.  Next  day  he 
had  rheumatism  in  his  joints,  and  stayed  in 
camp  all  day,  watching  Marks  making  snow- 
shoes.  The  day  after  that  he  tried  again, 
and  fished  all  the  morning,  and  caught  one 
yellow  perch  and  an  eel.  The  eel  danced 
right  up  in  his  face,  —  it  did,  sure  as  I'm 
alive,  Pink  !  —  and  scairt  him  so,  I  'm  blessed  if 
he  did  n't  sit  down  again  —  ho  !  ho !  ho !  —  on 
a  point  o'  rock,  and  slid  off  into  the  water,  and 
lost  his  spectacles.  Oh,  dear !  it  don't  seem 
as  if  it  could  be  true ;  but  it  is,  every  word. 
The  next  day  he  went  home.  He  '11  never 
go  a-fishing  again." 

"  Poor    man !    I   should    think   not ! "   said 


298  HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY. 

Rose,  compassionately.     "  But  is  Dr.  Flower 
—  are  all  the  others  still  there  ?  " 

"  Gone  home !  "  said  Bubble.  "  We  came 
out  of  the  woods  three  days  ago,  and  took 
the  train  yesterday.  I  never  thought  of 
such  a  thing  as  stopping  ;  supposed  I  must 
go  right  back  to  work.  But  when  the  brake- 
man  sung  out,  '  Next  station  Bywood  ! '  Doc- 
tor just  says  quietly,  *  Get  your  bag  ready, 
Bubble !  You  're  going  to  get  out  at  this 
station.'  And  when  I  looked  at  him,  all 
struck  of  a  heap,  as  you  may  say,  he  says, 
1  Shut  your  mouth !  you  look  really  better 
with  it  shut.  There  is  a  patient  of  mine 
staying  at  this  place,  Miss  Chirk  by  name.  I 
want  you  to  look  her  up,  make  inquiries  into 
her  case,  and  if  you  can  get  lodgings  in  the 
neighborhood,  stay  till  she  is  ready  to  be 
escorted  back  to  New  York.  It  is  all  ar- 
ranged, and  I  have  a  boy  engaged  to  take 
your  place  for  two  weeks.  Now,  then !  do 


HILDEGARDE'S   HOLIDAY.  299 

not  leave  umbrellas  or  packages  in  the  train  ! 
Good-by  ! '  And  there  we  were  at  the  sta- 
tion ;  and  he  just  shook  hands,  and  dropped 
me  off  on  the  platform,  and  off  they  went 
again.  Is  n't  he  a  good  man  ?  I  tell  you, 
if  they  was  all  like  him,  there  would  n't 
be  no  trouble  in  the  world  for  anybody." 
And  Rose  thought  so  too ! 


300  HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

THE    GREAT    SCHEME. 

IN  the  latter  days  of  August  came  a  hot 
wave.  It  started,  we  will  say,  from  the  Gulf, 
which  was  heated  sevenfold  on  purpose,  and 
which  simmered  and  hissed  like  a  gigantic 
caldron.  It  came  rolling  up  over  the  coun- 
try, scorching  all  it  touched,  spreading  its 
fiery  billows  east  and  west.  New  York 
wilted  and  fell  prostrate.  Boston  wiped  the 
sweat  from  her  intellectual  brow,  and  panted 
in  all  the  modern  languages.  Even  Maine 
was  not  safe  among  her  rocks  and  pine-trees ; 
and  a  wavelet  of  pure  caloric  swept  over 
quiet  Bywood,  and  made  its  inhabitants  very 


HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY.  301 

uncomfortable.  Miss  Wealthy  could  not  re- 
member any  such  heat.  There  had  been  a 
very  hot  season  in  1853,  —  she  remembered 
it  because  her  father  had  given  up  frills  to 
his  shirts,  as  no  amount  of  starch  would  keep 
them  from  hanging  limp  an  hour  after  they 
were  put  on ;  but  she  really  did  not  think  it 
was  so  severe  as  this.  She  was  obliged  to 
put  away  her  knitting,  it  made  her  hands  so 
uncomfortable  ;  and  took  to  crocheting  a  tidy 
with  linen  thread,  as  the  coolest  work  she 
could  think  of.  Hildegarde  and  Rose  put  on 
the  thin  muslins  which  had  lain  all  summer 
in  their  clothespress  drawers,  and  did  their 
best  to  keep  Benny  cool  and  quiet ;  read 
Dr.  Kane's  "  Arctic  Voyages,"  and  discussed 
the  possibility  of  Miss  Weal  thy 's  allowing 
them  to  shave  Dr.  Johnson. 

Bubble  spent  much  of  his  time  in  cracking 
ice  and  making  lemonade,  when  he  was  not 
on  or  in  the  river. 


802  HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY. 

As  for  Martha,  she  devoted  herself  to  the 
concoction  of  cold  dishes,  and  fed  the  whole 
family  on  jellied  tongue,  lobster-salad,  ice- 
cream, and  Charlotte  Russe,  till  they  rose 
up  and  blessed  her. 

When  Flower-Day  came,  the  girls  braved 
the  heat,  and  went  to  Fairtown  with  the 
flowers;  Miss  Wealthy  reluctantly  allowing 
them  to  go,  because  she  was  anxious,  as  they 
were,  to  know  how  the  little  patients  bore 
the  heat.  They  brought  back  a  sad  report. 
The  sick  children  were  suffering  much ;  the 
hospital  was  like  a  furnace,  in  spite  of  all  that 
could  be  done  to  keep  it  cool.  Mrs.  Murray 
sighed  for  a  "  country  week  "  for  them  all, 
but  knew  no  way  of  attaining  the  desired  ob- 
ject, as  most  of  the  people  interested  in  the 
hospital  were  out  of  town. 

"  Oh,  if  we  could  only  find  a  place  !  "  cried 
Hildegarde,  after  she  had  told  about  the  little 
pallid  faces  and  the  fever-heat  in  town.  "  If 


HILDEGARDE'S   HOLIDAY.  303 

there  were  only  some  empty  house,"  —  she 
did  not  dare  to  look  at  Miss  Wealthy  as  she 
said  this,  but  kept  her  eyes  on  the  river 
(they  were  all  sitting  on  the  piazza,  waiting 
for  the  afternoon  breeze,  which  seldom  failed 
them),  —  "  some  quiet  place,  like  Islip,  where 
the  poor  little  souls  could  come,  for  a  week 
or  two,  till  this  dreadful  heat  is  past."  Then 
she  told  the  story  of  Islip,  with  its  lovely 
Seaside  Home,  wrhere  all  summer  long  the 
poor  children  come  and  go,  nursed  and  tended 
to  refreshment  by  the  black-clad  Sisters. 
Miss  Wealthy  made  no  sign,  but  sat  with 
clasped  hands,  her  work  lying  idle  in  her 
lap.  Rose  was  very  pale,  and  trembled  with 
a  sense  of  coming  trouble ;  but  Hildegarde's 
cheeks  were  flushed,  and  her  eyes  shone  with 
excitement. 

There  were  a  few  moments  of  absolute 
silence,  broken  only  by  the  hot  shrilling  of  a 
locust  in  a  tree  hard  by  ;  then  Zerubbabel 


304  HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY. 

Chirk,  calmly  unconscious  of  any  thrill  in  the 
air,  any  tension  of  the  nerves,  any  crisis  im- 
pending, paused  in  his  whittling,  and  instead 
of  carving  a  whistle  for  Benny,  cut  the  Gor- 
dian  knot. 

"  Why,  there  is  a  house,  close  by  here," 
he  said  ;  "  not  more  'n  half  a  mile  off.  I  was 
going  to  ask  you  girls  about  it.  A  pretty 
red  house,  all  spick  and  span,  and  not  a  soul 
in  it,  far  as  I  could  see.  Why  is  n't  it  ex- 
actly the  place  you  want  ? "  He  looked 
from  one  to  the  other  with  bright,  inquiring 
eyes ;  but  no  one  answered.  "  I  'm  sure  it 
is!"  he  continued,  with  increasing  animation. 
"  There 's  a  lawn  where  the  children  could 
play,  and  a  nice  clear  brook  for  'em  to  paddle 
and  sail  boats  in,  and  gravel  for  'em  to  dig 
in,  —  why,  it  was  made  for  children  !  "  cried 
the  boy.  "  And  as  for  the  man  that  owns  it, 
why,  if  he  does  n't  want  to  stay  there  himself, 
why  should  n't  he  let  some  one  else  have  it  ?  - 


HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY.  305 

unless  he 's  an  old  hunks ;  and  even  if  he 
is  —  "  He  stopped  short,  for  Rose  had  seized 
his  arm  with  a  terrified  grasp,  and  Hilde- 
garde's  clear  eyes  flashed  a  silent  warning. 

Miss  Wealthy  tottered  to  her  feet,  and  the 
others  rose  instinctively  also.  She  stood  for 
a  moment,  her  hand  at  her  throat,  her  eyes 
fixed  on  Bubble,  trembling  as  if  he  had 
struck  her  a  heavy  blow ;  then,  as  the  frigh- 
tened girls  made  a  motion  to  advance,  she 
waved  them  back  with  a  gesture  full  of 
dignity,  and  turned  and  entered  the  house, 
making  a  low  moan  as  she  went. 

"  Send  Martha  to  her,  quick ! "  said  Hilde- 
garde,  in  an  imperative  whisper.  "  Fly, 
Bubble  !  the  back  door  !  " 

Bubble  flew,  as  if  he  had  been  shot  from 
a  gun,  and  returned,  wide-eyed  and  open- 
mouthed,  to  find  his  sister  in  tears,  and  his 
adored  Miss  Hilda  pacing  up  and  down  the 

piazza  with  hasty  and  agitated  steps. 

20 


806  HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY'. 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  he  cried  in  dismay. 
"  What  did  I  do?  What  is  the  matter  with 
everybody  ?  Why,  I  never — " 

Hildegarde  quieted  him  with  a  gesture, 
and  then  told  him,  briefly,  the  story  of  the 
house  in  the  wood.  Poor  Bubble  was  quite 
overcome.  He  punched  his  head  severely, 
and  declared  that  he  was  the  most  stupid 
idiot  that  ever  lived. 

"  1  'd  better  go  away  !  "  he  cried.  "  I 
can't  see  the  old  lady  again.  As  kind  as 
she  's  been  to  me,  and  then  for  me  to  call 
her  a  —  I  guess  I  '11  be  going,  Miss 
Hilda ;  I  'm  no  good  here,  and  only  doing 
harm." 

"  Be  quiet,  Bubble  !  '  said  Hildegarde, 
smiling  in  the  midst  of  her  distress.  "  You 
shall  do  nothing  of  the  kind.  And,  Rose, 
you  are  not  to  shed  another  tear.  Who 
knows  ?  This  may  be  the  very  best  thing  that 
could  have  happened.  Of  course  I  would  n't 


HILDEGARDE'S   HOLIDAY.  307 

have  had  you  say  it,  Bubble,  just  in  that 
way ;  but  now  that  it  is  said,  I  —  I  think  I 
am  glad  of  it.  I  should  not  wonder  —  I 
really  do  hope  that  it  may  have  been  just 
the  word  that  was  wanted." 

And  so  it  proved.  For  an  hour  after,  as 
the  three  still  sat  on  the  piazza,  —  two  of  them 
utterly  disconsolate,  the  third  trying  to  cheer 
them  with  the  hope  that  she  was  feeling 
more  and  more  strongly,  —  Martha  appeared. 
There  were  traces  of  tears  in  her  friendly 
gray  eyes,  but  she  looked  kindly  at  the 
forlorn  trio. 

"  Miss  Bond  is  not  feeling  very  well ! " 
she  said.  "  She  is  lying  down,  and  thinks 
she  will  not  come  downstairs  this  evening-. 

o 

Here  is  a  note  for  you,  Miss  Hilda,  and  a 
letter  for  the  post." 

Hildegarde  tore  open  the  little  folded  note, 
and  read,  in  Miss  Wealthy's  pretty,  regular 
hand,  these  words  :  — 


308  HILDEGARDE'S   HOLIDAY. 

MY  DEAR  HILDA,  —  Please  tell  the  boy  that  I  do 
not  mean  to  be  an  old  hunks,  and  ask  him  to  post  this 
letter.  We  will  make  our  arrangements  to-morrow, 
as  I  am  rather  tired  now. 

Your  affectionate  cousin, 

WEALTHY  BOND. 

The  letter  was  addressed  to  Mrs.  Murray 
at  the  Children's  Hospital ;  and  at  sight  of  it 
Hildegarde  threw  her  arms  round  Martha's 
neck,  and  gave  her  a  good  hug.  Her  private 
desire  was  to  cry  ;  but  tears  were  a  luxury 
she  rarely  indulged  in,  so  she  laughed 
instead. 

"  Is  it  all  right,  Martha,"  she  asked,  — 
"  really  and  truly  right  ?  Because  if  it  is,  I 
am  the  happiest  girl  in  the  world." 

"  It  is  all  right,  indeed,  Miss  Hilda  !  " 
replied  Martha,  heartily  ;  "  and  the  best 
thing  that  could  have  happened,  to  my  mind. 
Dear  gracious !  so  often  as  I  've  wished  for 
something  to  break  up  that  place,  so  to  speak, 
and  make  a  living  house  'stead  of  a  dead 


HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY.  309 

one  !  And  it  never  could  ha'  been  done,  in 
my  thinking,  any  other  way  than  this.  So 
it 's  a  good  day's  work  you  've  done,  and 
thankful  she  '11  be  to  you  for  it  when  the 
shock  of  it  is  over."  Then,  seeing  that  the 
young  people  were  still  a  little  "  trembly," 
as  she  called  it,  this  best  of  Marthas  added 
cheerfully  :  "  It 's  like  to  be  a  very  warm 
evening,  I  'm  thinking.  And  as  Miss  Bond 
isn't  coming  down,  would  n't  it  be  pleasant 
for  you  to  go  out  in  the  boat,  perhaps,  Miss 
Hilda,  and  take  your  tea  with  you  ?  There  's 
a  nice  little  mould  of  pressed  chicken,  do  you 
see,  and  some  lemon  jelly  on  the  ice ;  and  I 
could  make  you  up  a  nice  basket,  and  't  would 
be  right  pleasant  now,  wouldn't  it,  young 
ladies?" 

Whereupon  Martha  was  called  a  saint  and 
an  angel  and  a  brick,  all  in  three  breaths ; 
and  she  went  off,  well  pleased,  to  pack  the 
basket,  leaving  great  joy  behind  her. 


310  HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY. 

Late  that  evening,  when  Hildegarde  was 
going  to  bed,  she  saw  the  door  of  Miss 
Wealthy's  room  ajar,  and  heard  her  name 
called  softly.  She  went  in,  and  found  the 
dear  old  lady  sitting  m  her  great  white 
dimity  armchair. 

"  Come  here,  my  dear,"  said  Miss  Wealthy, 
gently.  "  I  have  something  to  show  you, 
which  I  think  you  will  like  to  see." 

She  had  a  miniature  in  her  hand,  —  the  por- 
trait of  a  young  and  handsome  man,  with 
flashing  dark  eyes,  and  a  noble,  thoughtful 
face. 

"  It  is  my  Victor  !  "  said  the  old  lady,  ten- 
derly. "  I  am  an  old  woman,  but  he  is 
always  my  true  love,  young  and  beautiful. 
Look  at  it,  my  child  !  It  is  the  face  of  a 
good  and  true  man." 

*'  You  do  not  mind  my  knowing  ?  "  Hilde- 
garde asked,  kissing  the  soft,  wrinkled  hand. 

"  1    am    very   glad    of    it,"    replied    Miss 


HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY.  311 

Wealthy,  —  "  very  glad  !  And  in  —  in  a  lit- 
tle while  —  when  I  have  had  time  to  realize 
it  —  I  shall  no  doubt  be  glad  of  this  —  this 
projected  change.  You  see  "  —  she  paused, 
and  seemed  to  seek  for  a  word,  —  "  you  see, 
dear,  it  has  always  been  Victor's  house  to  me. 
I  never  —  I  should  not  have  thought  of 
making  use  of  it,  like  another  house.  It  is 
doubtless  —  much  better.  In  fact,  I  am  sure 
of  it.  It  has  come  to  me  very  strongly  that 
Victor  would  like  it,  that  it  would  please 
him  extremely.  And  now  I  blame  myself 
for  never  having  thought  of  such  a  thing 
before.  So,  my  dear,"  she  added,  bending 
forward  to  kiss  Hildegarde's  forehead,  "be- 
sides the  blessings  of  the  sick  children,  you 
will  win  one  from  me,  and  —  who  knows  ?  — 
perhaps  one  from  a  voice  we  cannot  hear." 

The  girl  was  too  much  moved  to  speak, 
and  they  were  silent  for  a  while. 

"  And  now,"  Miss  Wealthy  said  very  cheer- 


312  HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY. 

fully,  "  it  is  bedtime  for  you,  and  -for  me 
too.  But  before  you  go,  I  want  to  give  you 
a  little  trinket  that  I  had  when  I  was  just 
your  age.  My  grandmother  gave  it  to  me ; 
and  though  I  am  not  exactly  your  grand- 
mother, I  am  the  next  thing  to  it.  Open 
that  little  cupboard,  if  you  please,  and  bring 
me  a  small  red  morocco  box  which  you  will 
find  on  the  second  shelf,  in  the  right-hand 
corner.  There  is  a  brown  pill-box  next  to 
it ;  do  you  find  it,  my  love  ?  " 

Hildegarde  brought  the  box,  and  on  being 
told  to  open  it,  found  a  bracelet  of  black 
velvet,  on  which  was  sewed  a  garland  of 
miniature  flowers,  white  roses  and  forget-me- 
nots,  wrought  in  exquisite  enamel. 

"  I  thought  of  it,"  said  the  old  lady,  as 
Hildegarde  bent  over  the  pretty  trinket  in 
wondering  delight,  "  when  I  saw  your  forget- 
me-not  room  last  winter.  The  clasp,  you  see, 
is  a  turquoise  ;  I  believe,  rather  a  fine  one. 


HILDEGARDE'S   HOLIDAY.  313 

My  grandfather  brought  it  from  Constanti- 
nople. A  pretty  thing ;  it  will  look  well  on 
your  arm.  The  Bonds  all  have  good  arms, 
which  is  a  privilege.  Good-night,  dear  child  ! 
Sleep  well,  and  be  ready  to  elaborate  your 
great  scheme  to-morrow." 


314  HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

THE    WIDOW   BRETT. 

So  it  came  to  pass  that  at  the  breakfast- 
table  next  morning  no  one  was  so  bright 
and  gay  as  Miss  Wealthy.  She  was  full 
of  the  new  plan,  and  made  one  suggestion 
after  another. 

"  The  first  thing,"  she  said,  "  is  to  find  a 
good  housekeeper.  There  is  nothing  more 
important,  especially  where  children  are  con- 
cerned. Now,  I  have  thought  of  precisely 
the  right  person,  —  pre-cisely  !  "  she  added, 
sipping  her  tea  with  an  air  of  great  content. 
"  Martha,  your  cousin  Cynthia  Brett  is  the 
very  woman  for  the  place." 


HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY.  315 

"  Truly,  Mam,  I  think  she  is,"  said  Mar- 
tha, putting-  down  the  buttered  toast  on 
the  exact  centre  of  the  little  round  mat  where 
it  belonged ;  "  and  I  think  she  would  do 
it  too!" 

"  A  widow,"  Miss  Wealthy  explained, 
turning  to  Hildegarde,  her  kind  eyes  beam- 
ing with  interest,  "  fond  of  children,  neat  as 
wax,  capable,  a  good  cook,  and  makes  but- 
ter equal  to  Martha's.  My  dears,  Cynthia 
Brett  was  made  for  this  emergency.  Zerub- 
babel,  my  lad,  are  you  desirous  of  attracting 
attention  ?  We  will  gladly  listen  to  any 
suggestion  you  have  to  make." 

The  unfortunate  Bubble,  who  had  been 
drumming  on  the  table  with  his  spoon, 
blushed  furiously,  muttered  an  incoherent 
apology,  and  wished  he  were  small  enough 
to  dive  into  his  bowl  of  porridge. 

"  And  this  brings  me  to  another  plan," 
continued  the  dear  old  lady.  "  Bixby,  where 


316  HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY. 

Cynthia  Brett  lives,  is  an .  extremely  pretty 
little  village,  and  I  should  like  you  all  to  see 
it  What  do  you  say  to  driving  over  there, 
spending  the  night  at  Mrs.  Brett's,  and  com- 
ing back  the  next  day,  after  making  the 
arrangements  with  her?  Zerubbabel  could 
borrow  Mr.  Rawson's  pony,  I  am  sure,  and 
be  your  escort.  Do  you  like  the  plan, 
Hilda,  my  dear?" 

"  Oh,  Cousin  Wealthy,"  cried  Hildegarde, 
"  it  is  too  delightful !  We  should  enjoy  it 
above  all  things.  But  —  no  !  "  she  added, 
"what  would  you  do  without  the  Doctor? 
You  would  lose  your  drive.  Is  there  no 
other  way  of  sending  word  to  Mrs.  Brett  ?  " 

But  Miss  Wealthy  would  not  hear  of  any 
other  way.  It  was  a  pity  if  she  could  not  stay 
at  home  one  day,  she  said.  So  when  Mr. 
Brisket,  the  long  butcher  from  Bixby,  came 
that  morning,  and  towering  in  the  doorway, 
six  feet  and  a  half  of  blue  jean,  asked  if  they 


HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY.  317 

wanted  "  a-any  ni-ice  mut-ton  toda-a-ay,"  he 
was  intrusted  with  a  note  from  Martha  to 
her  cousin,  telling  of  the  projected  expedi- 
tion, and  warning  her  to  expect  the  young 
ladies  the  next  day  but  one. 

The  day  came,  —  a  day  of  absolute  beauty, 
and  though  still  very  hot,  not  unbearable. 
Dr.  Abernethy  had  had  an  excellent  break- 
fast, with  twice  his  usual  quantity  of  oats,  so 
that  he  actually  frisked  when  he  was  brought 
round  to  the  door.  The  whole  family  assem- 
bled to  see  the  little  party  start.  Miss 
Wealthy  stood  on  the  piazza,  looking  like  an 
ancient  Dresden  shepherdess  in  her  pink  and 
white  and  silver  beauty,  and  gave  caution 
after  caution :  they  must  spare  the  horse 
up  hill,  and  never  trot  down  hill ;  "  and  let 
the  good  beast  drink,  dearie,  when  you 
come  to  the  half-way  trough, — not  too 
much,  but  enough  moderately  to  quench  his 
thirst;  "  etc. 


318  HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY. 

Martha  beamed  through  her  silver-rimmed 
spectacles,  and  hoped  she'd  given  them 
enough  lunch ;  while  Benny,  with  his  hand 
resting  on  the  head  of  his  "  ole  fat  kynt." 
surveyed  them  with  rather  a  serious  air. 

The  girls  had  been  troubled  about  Benny. 
They  did  not  want  to  leave  the  little  fel- 
low, who  had  announced  his  firm  intention  of 
going  with  them ;  yet  it  was  out  of  the  ques- 
tion to  take  him.  The  evening  before,  how- 
ever, Bubble  had  had  a  long  talk  with  "  ve 
boy  of  ve  house ; "  and  great  was  the  relief 
of  the  ladies  when  that  youthful  potentate 
announced  at  breakfast  his  determination  to 
stay  at  home  and  "take  care  of  ve  women- 
folks, 'cause  Jim-Maria  [the  name  by  which 
he  persistently  called  the  melancholy  prophet], 
he 's  gettin'  old,  an'  somebody  has  to  see  to 
fings ;  and  I 's  ve  boy  of  ve  house,  so  / 
ought  to  see  to  vem." 

When    the  final   moment   came,   however. 


HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY.  319 

it  seemed  very  dreadful  to  see  his  own  Sing- 
girl  drive  away,  and  Posy,  and  the  other 
boy  too ;  and  Benny's  lip  began  to  quiver, 
and  his  eyes  to  grow  large  and  round,  to 
make  room  for  the  tears.  At  this  very 
moment,  however,  Jim-Maria,  who  had  dis- 
appeared after  bringing  the  horse  to  the 
door,  came  round  the  corner,  bringing  the 
most  wonderful  hobby-horse  that  ever  was 
seen.  It  was  painted  bright  yellow,  for  that 
was  the  color  Jeremiah  was  painting  the 
barn.  Its  eyes  were  large  and  black,  which 
gave  it  a  dashing  and  spirited  appearance  ; 
and  at  sight  of  it  the  Boy  of  the  House  for- 
got everything  else  in  heaven  and  earth. 
"  Mine  horse !  "  he  cried,  rushing  upon  it 
with  outstretched  arms,  — "  all  mine,  for  to 
wide  on  !  Jim-Maria,  get  out  ov  ve  way ! 
Goo-by,  Sing-girl !  goo-by,  ev'ryboggy  !  Ben- 
ny 's  goin'  to  ve  Norf  Pole  !  "  and  he  cantered 
away,  triumphant. 


320  HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY. 

Then  Hildegarde  and  Rose,  seeing  that 
all  was  well,  made  their  adieus  with  a  light 
heart,  and  Bubble  waved  his"  hat,  and  Miss 
Wealthy  kissed  her  hand,  and  Martha  shook 
her  blue  checked  apron  violently  up  and 
down,  and  off  they  went. 

The  little  village  of  Bixby  was  in  its  usual 
condition  of  somnolent  cheerfulness,  that 
same  afternoon.  The  mail  had  come  in, 
being  brought  in  Abner  Colt's  green  wagon 
from  the  railway-station  two  miles  away. 
The  appearance  of  the  green  wagon,  with  its 
solitary  brown  bag,  not  generally  too  well 
filled,  and  its  bundle  of  newspapers,  was  the 
signal  for  all  the  village-loungers  to  gather 
about  the  door  of  the  post-office.  The  busy 
men  would  come  later,  when  the  mail  was 
sorted ;  but  this  was  the  supreme  hour  of  the 
loungers.  They  did  not  often  get  letters 
themselves,  but  it  was  very  important  that 


HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY.  321 

they  should  see  who  did  get  letters;  and 
most  of  them  had  a  newspaper  to  look  for. 
Then  the  joy  of  leaning  against  the  door- 
posts, and  waiting  to  see  if  anything  would 
happen  !  As  a  rule,  nothing  did  happen,  but 
there  was  no  knowing  what  joyful  day  might 
bring  a  new  sensation.  Sometimes  there  was 
a  dog-fight.  Once  —  thrilling  recollection  !  — 
Ozias  Brisket's  horse  had  run  away  ("Think 
't  's  likely  a  bumble-bee  must  ha'  stung  him ; 
could  n't  nothin'  else  ha'  stirred  him  out  of  a 
walk,  haw  !  haw  !  ")  and  had  scattered  the 
joints  of  meat  all  about  the  street. 

To-day  there  seemed  little  chance  of  any 
awakening  event  beyond  the  arrival  of  the 
green  cart.  It  was  very  warm ;  the  patient 
post-supporters  were  nearly  asleep.  Their 
yellow  dogs  slumbered  at  their  feet;  the 
afternoon  sun  filled  the  little  street  with 
vivid  golden  light. 

Suddenly  the  sound  of  wheels  was  heard,  — 


21 


322  HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY. 

of  unfamiliar  wheels.  The  post-supporters 
knew  the  creak  or  rattle  or  jingle  of  every 
"  team  "  in  Bixby.  There  was  a  general  stir, 
a  looking  up  the  street,  in  the  direction 
whence  the  sound  came ;  and  then  a  gaping 
of  mouths,  an  opening  of  eyes,  a  craning  of 
long  necks. 

A  phaeton,  drawn  by  a  comfortable-looking 
gray  horse,  was  coming  slowly  down  the 
street.  It  approached ;  it  stopped  at  the 
post-office  door.  In  it  sat  two  young  girls : 
one,  tall,  erect,  with  flashing  gray  eyes  and 
brilliant  color,  held  the  reins,  and  drew  the 
horse  up  with  the  air  of  a  practised  whip; 
the  other  leaned  back  among  the  cushions, 
with  a  very  happy,  contented  look,  though 
she  seemed  rather  tired.  Both  girls  were 
dressed  alike  in  simple  gowns  of  blue  ging- 
ham; but  the  simplicity  was  of  a  kind  un- 
known to  Bixby,  and  the  general  effect  was 
very  marvellous.  The  spectators  had  not  yet 


•CAN  YOU  TELL  rs  wurRE  Mus.  BRK.TT  LIVES? : 


HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY.  323 

shut  their  mouths,  when  a  clattering  of  hoofs 
was  heard,  and  a  boy  on  a  black  pony  came 
dashing  along  the  street,  and  drew  up  beside 
the  phaeton. 

"  No,  it  was  n't  that  house,"  he  said,  ad- 
dressing the  two  girls.  "  At  least,  there  was 
no  one  there.  Say,"  he  added,  turning  to 
the  nearest  lounger,  a  sandy  person  of  un- 
certain age  and  appearance,  "  can  you  tell 
us  where  Mrs.  Brett  lives  ? " 

"  The  Widder  Brett  ?  "  returned  the  sandy 
person,  cautiously.  "  Do  ye  mean  the  Widder 
Brett?" 

"  Yes,  I  suppose  so,"  answered  the  boy. 
"Is  there  any  other  Mrs.  Brett?" 

"  No,  there  ain't  !  "  was  the  succinct 
reply. 

"  Well,  where  does  she  live  ? "  cried  the 
boy,  impatiently. 

"  The  Widder  Brett  lives  down  yender ! " 
said  the  sandy  person,  nodding  down  the 


324  HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY. 

street.  "  Ye  can't  see  the  house  from  here, 
but  go  clear  on  to  the  eend,  and  ye  '11  see  it 
to  yer  right,  —  a  yaller  house,  with  green 
blinds,  an'  a  yard  in  front.  You  'kin  to  the 
Widder  Brett  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  the  tall  young  lady,  speaking 
for  the  first  time ;  "  we  are  no  relations. 
Thank  you  very  much  !  Good-morning  !  " 
and  with  a  word  to  the  boy,  she  gathered  up 
the  reins,  and  drove  slowly  down  the  little 
street. 

The  post-supporters  watched  them  till  the 
last  wheel  of  the  phaeton  disappeared  round 
the  turn;  then  they  turned  eagerly  to  one 
another. 

"  Who  be  they  ?  What  d'  ye  s'pose  they 
want  o'  the  Widder  Brett?"  was  the  eager 
cry.  "  Says  they  ain't  no  blood  relation  o' 
Mis'  Brett's."  "  Some  o'  Brett's  folks,  likely! " 
"I  all  us  heerd  his  folks  was  well  off." 

Meanwhile    the   phaeton   was    making   its 


HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY.  325 

way  along  slowly,  as  I  said,  for  Rose  was 
tired  after  the  long  drive. 

"  But  not  too  tired  !  "  she  averred,  in 
answer  to  Hildegarde's  anxious  inquiry. 
"  Oh,  no,  dear !  not  a  bit  too  tired,  only 
just  enough  to  make  rest  most  delightful. 
What  a  funny  little  street !  —  something  like 
the  street  in  Glenfield,  is  n't  it  ?  Look  !  that 
might  be  Miss  Bean's  shop,  before  you  took 
hold  of  it." 

"  Oh,  worse,  much  worse ! "  cried  Hilde- 
garde,  laughing.  "  These  bonnets  are  posi- 
tively mildewed.  Rose,  I  see  the  mould  on 
that  bunch  of  berries." 

"  Mould !  "  cried  Rose,  in  mock  indig- 
nation. "  It  is  bloom,  Hilda,  —  a  fine  purple 
bloom  !  City  people  don't  know  the  differ- 
ence, perhaps." 

"  See  !  "  said  Hildegarde ;  "  this  must  be 
'  the  Widder  Brett's '  house.  What  a  pretty 
little  place,  Rose !  I  am  sure  we  shall  like 


326  HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY. 

the  good  woman  herself.  Take  the  reins, 
dear,  while  I  go  and  make  sure.  No,  Bubble, 
I  will  go  myself,  thank  you." 

She  sprang  lightly  out,  and  after  patting 
Dr.  Abernethy's  head  and  bidding  him  stand 
still  like  the  best  of  dears,  she  opened  the 
white  gate,  which  stuck  a  little,  as  if  it  were 
not  opened  every  day.  A  tidy  little  wooden 
walk,  with  a  border,  of  pinks  on  either  side, 
led  up  to  the  green  door,  in  front  of  which 
was  one  broad  stone  doorstep.  Beyond  the 
pinks  was  a  bed  of  pansies  on  the  one 
hand ;  on  the  other,  two  apple-trees  and  a 
pleasant  little  green  space ;  while  under 
the  cottage  windows  were  tiger-lilies  and 
tall  white  phlox  and  geraniums,  and  a  great 
bush  of  southernwood ;  altogether,  it  was 
a  front  yard  such  as  Miss  Jewett  would 
like. 

Hildegarde  lifted  the  bright  brass  knocker, 
—  she  was  so  glad  it  was  a  knocker,  and  not 


HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY.  327 

an  odious  gong  bell ;  she  could  not  have  liked 
a  house  with  a  gong  bell, — and  rapped  gently. 
The  pause  which  followed  was  not  strictly 
necessary,  for  the  Widow  Brett  had  been 
reconnoitring  every  movement  of  the  new- 
comers through  a  crack  in  the  window-blind, 
and  was  now  standing  in  the  little  entry, 
not  two  feet  from  the  door.  The  good 
woman  counted  twenty,  which  she  thought 
would  occupy  just  about  the  time  necessary 
to  come  from  the  kitchen,  and  then  opened 
the  door,  with  a  proper  expression  of  polite 
surprise  on  her  face. 

"  Good-day  !  '  she  said,  with  a  rising 
inflection. 

"  How  do  you  do  ?  "  replied  Hildegarde, 
with  a  falling  one.  "  Are  yon  Mrs.  Brett, 
and  are  you  expecting  us  ? " 

"  My  name  is  Brett,"  replied  the  tall,  spare 
woman  in  the  brown  stuff  gown ;  "  but  I 
was  n't  expectin'  any  one.  as  I  know  of. 


828  HILDEGARDE'S   HOLIDAY. 

Pleased  to  see  ye,  though !  Step  in,  won't 
ye?" 

"  Oh  !  "  cried  Hildegarde,  looking  dis- 
tressed. "Didn't  you  —  haven't  you  had  a 
letter  from  Martha  ?  She  promised  to  write, 
and  said  she  was  sure  you  would  take  us  in 
for  the  night.  I  don't  understand  —  " 

"  There !  "  cried  Mrs.  Brett.  "  Step  right 
in  now,  do  !  and  I  '11  tell  you.  This  way,  if 
you  please !  "  and  much  flurried,  she  led  the 
way  into  the  best  room,  and  drew  up  the 
hair-cloth  rocking-chair,  in  which  our  hero- 
ine entombed  herself.  "  I  do  declare,"  the 
widow  went  on,  "  I  ought  to  be  shook  !  There 
tvas  a  letter  come  last  night ;  and  my  spec- 
tacles was  broken,  my  dear,  and  I  can't  read 
Martha's  small  handwriting  without  'em.  I 
thought  't  was  just  one  of  her  letters,  you 
know,  telling  how  they  was  getting  on,  and 
I'd  wait  till  one  of  the  neighbors  came  in 
to  read  it  to  me.  Well,  there !  and  All  the 


HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY.  329 

time  she  was  telling  me  something,  was  she  ? 
and  who  might  you  be,  dear,  that  was  think- 
ing of  staying  here?" 

"  I  arn  Hilda  Grahame  !  "  said  the  girl,  sup- 
pressing an  inclination  to  cry,  as  the  thought 
of  Rose's  tired  face  came  over  her.  "  If  you 
will  find  the  letter,  Mrs.  Brett,  I  will  read  it 
to  you  at  once.  It  was  to  tell  you  that  I  was 
coming,  with  my  friend,  who  is  in  the  car- 
riage now,  and  her  young  brother  ;  and 
Martha  thought  there  was  no  doubt  about 
your  taking  us  in.  Perhaps  there  is  some 
other  house  —  " 

"  No,  th'ere  is  n't,"  said  the  Widow  Brett, 
quickly  and  kindly,  —  "  not  another  one.  The 
idea !  Of  course  I  '11  take  you  in,  child,  and 
glad  enough  of  the  chance.  And  you  Miss 
Hildy  Grahame,  too,  that  Marthy  has  told  me 
so  much  about !  Why,  I  'm  right  glad  to  see 
ye,  right  glad ! "  She  took  Hildegarde's 
hand,  and  moved  it  up  and  down  as  if  it  were 


330  HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY. 

a  pump-handle,  her  homely  face  shining  with 
a  cordiality  which  was  evidently  genuine. 
"  Only,"  —  and  here  her  face  clouded  again, 
—  "  only  if  I  'd  ha'  known,  I  should  have  had 
everything  ready,  and  have  done  some  clean- 
ing, and  cooked  up  a  few  things.  You  '11 
have  to  take  me  just  as  I  am,  I  expect  ! 
However  —  " 

"  Oh,  we  Uke  things  just  as  they  are  !  " 
cried  Hildegarde,  in  delight.  "  You  must 
not  make  any  difference  at  all  for  us,  Mrs. 
Brett !  We  shall  not  like  it  if  you  do.  May 
I  bring  my  friend  in  now  ?  " 

"  Well,  I  should  say  so !  "  cried*  the  good 
woman.  "  She 's  out  in  the  carriage,  you 
say  ?  I  '11  go  right  out  and  fetch  her  in." 

Rose  was  warmly  welcomed,  and  brought 
into  the  house;  while  Hilda  fastened  Dr. 
Abernethy  to  the  gate-post,  and  got  the 
shawls  and  hand-bags  out  from  under  the 
seat. 


HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY.  331 

''I  expect  you'd  like  to  go  right  upstairs 
and  lay  off  your  things !  "  was  Mrs.  Brett's 
next  remark.  "  I  declare  !  I  do  wish  't  I  'd 
known !  I  swep'  the  spare  chamber  yester- 
day, but  I  had  n't  any  ^dea  of  its  being  used. 
Well,  there !  you  '11  have  to  take  me  as  I 
am."  She  bustled  upstairs  before  the  girls, 
talking  all  the  way.  "  I  try  to  keep  the 
house  clean,  but  I  don't  often  have  comp'ny, 
and  the  dust  doos  gather  so,  this  dry  weather, 
and  not  keeping  any  help,  you  see  —  well, 
there !  this  is  the  best  I  've  got,  and  maybe 
it  '11  do  to  sleep  in." 

She  threw  open,  with  mingled  pride  and 
nervousness,  the  door  of  a  pleasant,  sunny 
room,  rather  bare,  but  in  exquisite  order. 
The  rag  carpet  was  brilliant  with  scarlet, 
blue,  and  green  ;  the  furniture  showed  no 
smallest  speck  of  dust ;  the  bed  looked  like  a 
snowdrift.  Nevertheless,  the  good  hostess 
went  peering  about,  wiping  the  chairs  with 


232  HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY. 

her  apron,  and  repeating,  "  The  dust  doos 
gather  so !  I  would  n't  set  down,  if  I  was 
you,  till  I  've  got  the  chairs  done  off  !  " 

"Why,  Mrs.  Brett,"  cried  Hildegarde, 
laughing  merrily,  "  it  is  the  chairs  you 
should  be  anxious  for,  not  ourselves.  We 
are  simply  covered  with  dust,  from  head  to 
foot.  I  think  it  must  be  an  inch  deep  on 
my  hat ! "  she  continued,  taking  off  her 
round  "sailor"  and  looking  at  it  with  pre- 
tended alarm.  "  I  don't  dare  to  put  it  down 
in  this  clean  room." 

"  Oh,  that 's  all  right !  "  cried  the  widow, 
beaming.  "  Land  sakes !  I  don't  care  how 
much  dust  you  bring  in,  but  I  should  be 
lawth  to  have  you  get  any  on  you  here. 
Well,  there.!  now  you  need  a  proper  good 
rest,  I'm  sure,  both  of  you.  Wouldn't  you 
like  a  cup  o'  tea  now  ?  " 

Both  girls  declined  the  tea,  and  declared 
that  an  hour's  rest  was  all  they  needed ;  so 


HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY.  333 

the  good  woman  bade  them  "  rest  good !  " 
and  hurried  downstairs,  to  fling  herself  into 
a,  Berserker  fit  of  cooking.  "  Not  a  thing  in 
the  house  !  "  she  soliloquized,  as  she  sifted 
flour  and  beat  eggs  with  the  energy  of  des- 
peration, "  except  cookies  and  doughnuts ; 
and  Marthy  always  has  everything  so  nice, 
let  alone  what  they  're  used  to  at  home.  I  '11 
make  up  a  sheet  of  sponge-cake,  I  guess, 
first,  and  while  it 's  baking  I  can  whip  up 
some  chocolate  frosting  and  mix  a  pan  of 
biscuit.  Le'  me  see !  I  might  make  a 
jelly-roll,  while  I  'm  about  it,  for  there 's 
some  of  Marthy 's  own  currant  jelly  that  she 
sent  me  last  fall.  They  'd  ought  to  have 
some  hearty  victuals  for  supper,  I  suppose  ;  but 
I  declare,"  —  she  paused,  with  the  egg-beater 
in  her  hand,  — "  stuffed  aigs  '11  have  to  do 
to-night,  I  guess !  "  she  concluded  with  a  sigh. 
"  There  is  n't  time  to  get  a  chicken  ready. 
Well,  there  !  If  I  'd  ha'  known !  but  they  '11 


334  HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY. 

have  to  take  me  as  I  am.  I  might  give  'em 
some  fritters,  though,  to  eat  with  maple  sur- 
rup,  just  for  a  relish." 

While  these  formidable  preparations  were 
going  on  against  their  peace  of  body,  the  two 
girls  were  enjoying  an  hour  of  perfect  rest, 
each  after  her  own  manner.  Rose  was  curled 
up  on  the  bed,  in  a  delicious  doze  which  was 
fast  deepening  into  sound  sleep.  Hildegarde 
sat  in  a  low  chair  with  a  book  in  her  hand, 
and  looked  out  of  the  window.  She  could 
always  rest  better  with  a  book,  even  if  she 
did  not  read  it;  and  the  very  touch  of  this 
little  worn  morocco  volume  —  it  was  the 
"  Golden  Treasury  "  —  was  a  pleasure  to  her. 
She  looked  out  dreamily  over  the  pleasant 
green  fields  and  strips  of  woodland;  for  the 
house  stood  at  the  very  end  of  the  little  vil- 
lage, and  the  country  was  before  and  around 
it.  Under  the  window  lay  the  back  y3rd, 
with  a  white  lilac-tree  in  blossom,  and  a  well 


HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY.  335 

with  a  long  sweep.  Such  a  pleasant  place 
it  looked  !  A  low  stone-wall  shut  it  in,  the 
stones  all  covered  with  moss  and  gay  red 
and  yellow  lichens.  Beside  the  white  lilac, 
there  was  a  great  elm  and  a  yellow  birch. 
In  the  latter  was  an  oriole's  nest ;  and  pres- 
ently Hildegarde  heard  the  bird's  clear 
golden  note,  and  saw  his  bright  wings  flash 
by.  '•  1  like  this  place!"  she  said,  settling 
herself  comfortably  in  the  flag-bottomed 
chair.  She  dropped  her  eyes  to  the  book  in 
her  lap  and  read, — 

"  Straight  mine  eye  hath  caught  new  pleasures 
While  the  landscape  round  it  measures  : 
Russet  lawns,  and  fallows  gray, 
Where  the  nibbling  flocks  do  stray ; 
Mountains,  on  whose  barren  breast 
The  laboring  clouds  do  often  rest ; 
Meadows  trim  with  daisies  pied, 
Shallow  brooks,  and  rivers  wide." 

Then  her  eyes  strayed  over  the  landscape 
again.  "  There  must  be  a  brook  over  there, 


336  HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY. 

behind  that  line  of  willows ! "  she  thought. 
"  I  wonder  if  Milton  loved  willows.  There 
are  pines  and  monumental  oaks  in  '  II  Pen- 
seroso,'  but  I  don't  remember  any  willows. 
It 's  a  pity  we  have  no  skylarks  here  !  I  do 
want  Rose  to  hear  a  skylark.  Dear  Rose ! 
dear  Milton!  Oh  —  I  am  so  comfortable!" 
And  Hildegarde  was  asleep. 


HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY.  337 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

OLD   MR.    COLT. 

SUPPEK  was  over.  The  girls  had  laugh- 
ingly resisted  their  hostess's  appeal,  "  Just 
one  more  fritter,  with  another  on  each  side 
to  keep  it  warm,  —  though  I  don't  know  as 
they  are  fit  to  eat !  "  and  on  her  positive 
refusal  to  let  them  help  wash  the  dishes, 
had  retired  to  the  back  doorstep,  from  which 
they  could  wratch  the  sunset.  Here  they 
were  joined  by  Bubble,  who  had  found  a 
lodging  for  himself,  Dr.  Abernethy,  and  the 
pony,  in  the  family  of  Abner  Colt,  the  mail- 
carrier.  He  took  his  place  on  the  doorstep 
with  the  air  of  one  who  has  fairly  earned 
his  repose. 


338  HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY. 

11  Well,  Bubble,"  said  Hildegarde,  "  tell  us 
how  you  have  fared." 

"  Oh,  very  well !  "  answered  the  boy,  — 
"  very  well,  Miss  Hilda  !  They  're  a  funny 
set  over  there  at  Mr.  Colt's,  but  they  seem 
very  kind,  and  they  have  given  me  a  nice 
little  room  in  the  stable-loft,  so 't  I  can  see 
to  the  Doctor  any  minute." 

"  How  is  the  dear  beast  ? "  asked  Rose. 
"I  thought  he  went  a  little  lame,  after  he 
got  that  stone  in  his  foot." 

"I  have  bathed  the  foot,"  said  Bubble, 
"  and  it  '11  be  all  right  to-morrow.  Old  Mr. 
Colt  wanted  to  give  me  three  different  kinds 
of  liniment  to  rub  on  it,  but  hot  water  is  all 
it  needs.  He  's  a  queer  old  fellow,  old  Mr. 
Colt ! "  he  added  meditatively.  "  Seems  to 
live  on  medicine  chiefly." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ? "  asked  the 
girls. 

"  Why,"   said   Bubble,   "  he    came   in    to 


HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY.  339 

supper  —  I  had  n't  seen  him  before  —  with 
a  big  bottle  under  his  arm,  and  a  box  of 
pills  in  his  hand.  He  came  shuffling  in  in 
his  stocking-feet,  and  when  he  saw  me  he 
gave  a  kind  of  groan.  '  Who 's  that  ?  '  says 
he.  *  It 's  a  boy  come  over  from  Bywood,' 
says  Mrs.  Abner,  as  they  call  her.  '  He 's 
goin'  to  stop  here  over  night,  Father.  Ain't 
you  glad  to  see  him  ?  —  Father  likes  young 
folks  real  well ! '  she  says  to  me.  The  old 
gentleman  gave  a  groan,  and  sat  down, 
nursing  his  big  bottle  as  if  it  were  a  baby. 
"'  D'  ye  ever  have  the  dyspepsy  ?  '  he  asked, 
looking  at  me.  '  No,  sir ! '  said  I.  '  Never 
had  anything  that  I  know  of.  'cept  the 
measles.'  He  groaned  again,  and  poured 
something  out  of  the  bottle  into  a  tumbler. 
'You  look  kinder  'pindlin','  says  he,  shaking 
his  head.  '  I  think  likely  you  've  got  it  on 
ye  'thout  knowin'  it.  It 's  sub-tile,  dyspepsy 
is,  —  dreadful  sub-tile.'  " 


340  HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY. 

"What  did  he  mean  ?  —  subtle  ?"  asked 
Hilda,  laughing. 

"  I  suppose  so  !  "  replied  the  boy.  "  And 
then  he  took  his  medicine,  groaning  all  the 
time  and  making  the  worst  faces  you  ever 
saw.  '  I  reckon  you  'd  better  take  a  swallow 
o'  this,  my  son  ! '  he  said.  '  It 's  a  pre-venti- 
tative,  as  well 's  a  cure.' " 

"  Bubble,"  cried  his  sister,  "  you  are  mak- 
ing this  up.  Confess,  you  monkey  ! " 

"  I  'm  not !  "  said  Bubble,  laughing.  "  It 's 
true,  every  word  of  it.  I  could rit  make  up 
old  Mr.  Colt !  '  It 's  a  pre-ventitative  ! '  he 
says,  and  reaches  out  his  hand  for  my  tum- 
bler. Then  Abner,  the  young  man,  spoke 
up,  and  told  him  he  guessed  I'd  be  better 
without  it,  and  that  't  was  n't  meant  for 
young  people,  and  so  on.  '  What  is  it,  Mr. 
Colt  ?  '  I  asked,  seeing  that  he  looked  real  — 
I  mean  very  much  —  disappointed.  He  bright- 
ened up  at  once.  'It's  Vino's  Vegetable 


HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY.  341 

Vivifier ! '  he  said.  '  It 's  the  greatest  thing 
out  for  dyspepsy.  How  many  bottles  have 
I  took,  Leory  ? '  4 1  believe  this  is  the  tenth, 
Father ! '  said  Mrs.  Abner.  *  And  /  don't 
see  as  't's  done  you  a  mite  o'  good ! '  she  said 
to  herself,  but  so  't  I  could  hear.  '  Thar  ! ' 
says  the  old  man,  nodding  at  me,  as  proud 
as  could  be,  'd'ye  hear  that?  Ten  bottles 
I  've  took,  at  a  dollar  a  bottle.  Ah !  it 's 
great  stuff.  Ugh ! '  and  he  groaned  and  took 
a  great  piece  of  mince-pie  on  his  plate.  *  Oh, 
Father  ! '  says  the  young  woman,  '  do  you 
think  you  ought  to  eat  mince-pie,  after  as 
sick  as  you  was  yesterday  ? '  He  was  just 
as  mad  as  hops !  '  Ef  I  'm  to  be  grutched 
vittles,'  he  says,  (  I  guess  it's  time  for  me  to 
be  quittin'.  I  've  eat  mince-pie  seventy  year, 
man  an'  boy,  and  I  guess  I  ain't  goin'  to 
leave  off  now.  I  kin  go  over  to  Joel's,  if 
so  be  folks  begrutches  me  my  vittles  here.' 
'  Oh,  come,  Father ! '  says  Abner ;  <  you 


342  HILDEGARDE'S   HOLIDAY. 

know  Leory  did  n't  mean  nothing  like  that. 
Ef  you  've  got  to  have  the  pie,  why,  you  've 
gat  to  have  it,  that 's  all.'  The  old  man 
groaned,  and  pegged  away  at  the  pie  like 
a  good  one.  '  Ah  ! '  he  said,  *  I  sha'n't  be 
here  long,  anyway.  Nobody  need  n't  be  afraid 
o'  my  eatin'  up  their  substance.  Hand  me 
them  doughnuts,  Abner.  Nothin'  seems  to 

o  » 

have  any  taste   to  it,  somehow.' ' 

"  Did  he  eat  nothing  but  pie  and  dough- 
nuts?" asked  Hilda.  "I  should  be  afraid  he 
would  die  to-night." 

"Oh,"  said  Bubble,  "you  wouldn't  be- 
lieve me  if  I  told  you  all  the  things  he  ate. 
Pickles  and  hot  biscuit  and  cheese  —  and 
groaning  all  the  time,  and  saying  nobody 
knowed  what  dyspepsy  was  till  they  'd  had 
it.  Then,  when  he  'd  finished,  he  opened 
the  pill-box,  which  had  been  close  beside  his 
plate  all  the  time,  and  took  three  great  fat 
black  pills.  l  Have  any  trouble  with  yer  liver? ' 


HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY.  343 

says  he,  turning  to  me  again  ;  '  there  is 
nothin'  like  these  pills  for  yer  liver.  You 
take  two  of  these,  and  you  '11  feel  'em  all 
over  ye  in  an  hour's  time,  —  all  over  ye ! ' 
I  thought  't  was  about  time  for  me  to  go,  so 
I  said  I  must  attend  to  the  horse's  foot,  and 
went  out  to  the  stable.  It  was  then  that  he 
brought  me  the  three  kinds  of  liniment,  and 
wanted  me  to  rub  them  all  on,  '  so  's  if  one 
did  n't  take  holt,  another  would.' " 

"  What  a  dreadful  old  ghoul ! "  cried  Hilde- 
garde,  indignantly.  "  I  don't  think  it 's  safe 
for  you  to  stay  there,  Bubble.  I  know  he 
will  poison  you  in  some  way." 

"  You  're  talking  about  Cephas  Colt,  / 
know,"  said  the  voice  of  Mrs.  Brett ;  and  the 
good  woman  appeared  with  her  knitting,  and 
joined  the  group  on  the  doorstep.  "  He  is  a 
caution,  Cephas  is,  —  a  caution!  He's  been 
dosing  himself  for  the  last  thirty  years,  and 
it 's  a  living  miracle  that  he  is  alive  to-day. 


344  HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY. 

Abner  and  Leory  have  a  sight  o'  trouble 
with  him ;  but  they  're  real  good  and  patient, 
more  so  'n  I  should  be.  Did  he  show  you  his 
collection  of  bottles  ? "  she  added,  turning 
to  Bubble. 

"  No,"  replied  the  boy.  "  He  did  speak  of 
showing  me  something ;  but  I  was  in  a  hurry 
to  get  over  here,  so  I  told  him  I  could  n't 
wait." 

"  You  '11  see  'em  to-morrow,  then ! "  said 
the  widow.  "  It 's  his  delight  to  show  'em  to 
strangers.  Four  thousand  and  odd  bottles 
he  has,  —  all  physic  bottles,  that  have  held  all 
the  stuff  he  and  his  folks  have  taken  for 
thirty  years." 

"  Four  —  thousand  —  bottles  !  "  cried  her 
hearers,  in  dismay. 

"  And  odd  !  "  replied  the  widow,  with 
emphasis.  "  He  's  adding  new  ones  all  the 
time,  and  hopes  to  make  it  up  to  five  thou- 
sand before  he  dies.  Large  ones  and  small, 


HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY.  345 

of  course,  and  lotions  and  all.  He  takes 
every  new  thing  that  comes  along,  reg'lar. 
He  has  his  wife's  bottles  all  arranged  in  a 
shape,  kind  o'  monument-like.  They  do  say 
he  wanted  to  set  them  up  on  her  grave,  but 
I  guess  that's  only  talk." 

"  How  long  ago  did  she  die  ?  "  asked 
Rose. 

"  Three  year  ago,  it  is  now !  "  said  Mrs. 
Brett.  "  Dosed  herself  to  death,  we  all 
thought.  She  was  just  like  him !  Folks 
used  to  say  they  had  pills  and  catnip-tea  for 
dinner  the  day  they  was  married.  You  know 
how  folks  will  talk  !  It 's  a  fact  though  "  — 
here  she  lowered  her  voice  —  "  and  I  'd  ought 
not  to  gossip  about  my  neighbors,  nor  I 
don't  among  themselves  much,  but  strangers 
seem  different  somehow,  —  anyhow,  it  is  a 
fact  that  he  wanted  to  put  a  scandalous  in- 
scription on  her  monument  in  the  cemetery, 
and  Abner  would  n't  let  him  ;  the  only  time 


346  HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY. 

Abner  ever  stood  out  against  his  father,  as  I 
know  of." 

"  What  was  the  inscription  ?  "  asked  Hilde- 
garde,  trying  hard  to  look  as  grave  as  the 
subject  required. 

"  Well,  —  you  must  n't  say  1  told  you  !  " 
said  the  Widow  Brett,  lowering  her  voice 
still  more,  and  looking  about  with  an  air  of 
mystery,  —  "  't  was 


'  Phosphoria  helped  her  for  a  spell ; 
But  Death  spoke  up,  and  all  is  well.' 


'Sh  !  you  must  n't  laugh  !  "  she  added,  as 
the  three  young  people  broke  into  peals  of 
laughter.  "  There  !  I  'd  ought  not  to  have 
told.  He  did  n't  mean  nothing  improper, 
only  to  express  resignation  to  the  will  o' 
Providence.  Well,  there  !  the  tongue  's  an 
onruly  member.  And  so  you  young  ladies 
thought  you  'd  like  to  see  Bixby,  did  ye  ?  " 


HILDEGARDE'S   HOLIDAY.  347 

she  added,  for  the  third  or  fourth  time. 
"  Well,  I  'in  sure  !  Bixby  'd  oughter  be 
proud.  'Tis  a  sightly  place,  I've  always 
thought.  You  must  go  over  t'  the  cemetery 
to-morrow,  and  see  what  there  is  to  see." 

"  Yes,  we  did  want  to  see  Bixby,"  an- 
swered straightforward  Hildegarde  ;  "  but  we 
came  still  more  to  see  you,  Mrs.  Brett.  In- 
deed, we  have  a  very  important  message  for 
you." 

And  beginning  at  the  beginning,  Hilde- 
garde unfolded  the  great  scheme.  Mrs. 
Brett  listened,  wide-eyed,  following  the  re- 
cital with  appreciative  motions  of  lips  and 
hands.  When  it  was  over,  she  seemed  for 
once  at  a  loss  for  words. 

"I  —  well,  there  !  "  she  said  ;  and  she  crum- 
pled up  her  apron,  and  then  smoothed  it  out 
again.  "I  —  why,  I  don't  know  what  to  say. 
Well !  I  'm  completely,  as  you  may  say, 
struck  of  a  heap.  I  don't  know  what  Mar- 


348  HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY. 

thy  's  thinking  of,  I  'm  sure.  It  is  n't  me 
you  want,  surely.  You  want  a  woman  with 
faculty ! " 

"  Of  course  we  do  !  "  cried  both  girls, 
laughing.  "  That  is  why  we  have  come  to 
you." 

"  Sho  ! "  said  Mrs.  Brett,  crumpling  her 
apron  again,  and  trying  not  to  look  pleased. 
"  Why,  young  ladies,  I  could  n't  do  it,  no 
way  in  the  world.  There 's  my  chickens, 
you  see,  and  my  cow,  let  alone  the  house ; 
not  but  what  Joel  (that's  my  nephew)  would 
be  glad  enough  to  take  keer  of  'em.  And 
goin'  so  fur  away,  as  you  may  say  —  though 
't  wrould  be  pleasant  to  be  nigh  Marthy  —  we 
was  always  friends,  Marthy  and  me,  since  we 
was  girls  —  and  preserves  to  make,  and  fall 
cleanin'  comin'  on,  and  help  so  skurce  as  't  is 
—  why,  I  don't  know  what  Marthy  's  think- 
in'  of,  really  I  don't.  Children,  too !  why, 
T  do  love  children,  and  I  should  n't  never 


HTLDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY.  349 

think  I  had  things  comfortable  enough  for 
'em ;  not  but  that 's  a  lovely  place,  pretty 
as  ever  I  see.  I  helped  Marthy  clean  it  one 
spring,  and  such  a  fancy  as  I  took  to  that 
kitchen,  —  why,  there !  and  the  little  room 
over  it ;  I  remember  of  saying  to  Marthy, 
says  I,  a  woman  might  live  happy  in  those 
two  rooms,  let  alone  the  back  yard,  with  all 
that  nice  fine  gravel  for  the  chickens,  I 
says.  But  there !  I  could  n't  do  it,  Miss 
Grahame,  no  way  in  the  world.  Why,  I  ain't 
got  more  'n  half-a-dozen  aprons  to  my  back  ; 
so  now  you  see  !  " 

This  last  seemed  such  a  very  funny  reason 
to  give,  that  the  three  young  people  could 
not  help  laughing  heartily. 

"  Martha  has  dozens  and  dozens  of  aprons, 
Mrs.  Brett,"  said  Hildegarde.  "  She  has  a 
whole  bureau  full  of  them,  because  she  is 
afraid  her  eyes  may  give  out  some  day,  and 
then  she  will  not  be  able  to  make  any  more. 


350  HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY. 

And  now,  just  think  a  moment ! "  She  laid 
her  hand  on  the  good  woman's  arm,  and 
continued  in  her  most  persuasive  tones: 
"  Think  of  living  in  that  pleasant  house, 
with  the  pretty  room  for  your  own,  and 
the  sunny  kitchen,  and  the  laundry,  all 
under  your  own  management." 

"  Set  tubs  !  "  said  Mrs.  Brett,  in  a  pathetic 
parenthesis.  "  If  there  's  one  thing  I  've 
allers  hankered  after,  more  'n  another,  it 's  a 
set  tub !  " 

"  And  the  dear  little  children  playing 
about  in  the  garden,  and  coming  to  you 
with  flowers,  and  looking  to  you  as  almost 
a  second  mother  —  " 

"Little  Joel,"  —  cried  the  widow,  putting 
her  apron  to  her  eyes,  and  beginning  to  rock 
gently  to  and  fro,  —  "I've  allus  felt  that 
blessed  child  would  ha*  lived,  if  he  'd  ha' 
been  left  with  me.  There !  Joel 's  been  a 
good  nephew,  there  could  n't  no  one  have 


HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY.  351 

a  better;  but  his  wife  and  me,  we  never 
conjingled.  She  took  the  child  away,  and 
it  peaked  and  pined  from  that  day.  Well, 
there  !  the  ways  are  mysterious !  " 

"  And  you  would  take  the  chickens  and 
the  cow  with  you,  of  course,"  this  artful 
girl  went  on ;  "  for  the  children  must  have 
milk  and  eggs,  and  I  never  tasted  more 
delicious  milk  than  this  of  yours." 

"  I  've  no  cause  to  be  ashamed  of  the 
cow  !  "  said  the  widow,  still  rocking. 
"  There  is  n't  a  cow  equal  to  her  round 
Marthy's  way.  I  've  heerd  Marthy  say  so. 
Sixteen  quarts  she  gives,  and  I  do  'clare  it 's 
most  half  cream.  Jersey  !  there  is  n't  many 
Jerseys  round  Marthy's  way." 

"  And  then  the  comfort  you  would  be  to 
Martha  and  to  dear  Miss  Bond !  "  Rose  put 
in.  "  Martha  has  a  good  deal  of  rheuma- 
tism in  winter,  you  know,  and  she  says  you 
are  such  a  good  nurse.  She  told  me  how 


352  HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY. 

you  rubbed  her  in  her  rheumatic  fever. 
She  thinks  you  saved  her  life,  and  I  am 
sure  you  did." 

"  If  I  rubbed  Marthy  Ellen  Banks  one 
foot,  I  rubbed  her  a  hundred  miles ! "  said 
Mrs.  Brett,  with  a  faint  gleam  in  her  moist 
eyes.  "  *'  From  her  tombstun  back  to  a  well 
woman  is  a  good  way/  Dr.  Jones  says  to 
me,  'and  that  way  you've  rubbed  Marthy 
Ellen,  Mis'  Brett ! '  says  he.  Good  man 
Dr.  Jones  is,  —  none  better !  There  is  n't 
no  one  round  Bixby  can  doctor  my  sciatica 
as  he  did  when  I  was  stayin'  to  Mis'  Bond's 
last  year.  Mis'  Bond,  too,  —  well,  there  ! 
she  was  a  mother  to  me.  Seemed  like  't  was 
more  home  there  than  Bixby  was,  since 
little  Joel  died.  Mysterious  the  ways  is !  Mr. 
Rawlins  well  ? "  she  added,  after  a  moment's 
pause. 

"  Mr.  —  Oh,  Jeremiah !  "  cried  Hilde- 
garde,  after  a  moment  of  bewilderment 


HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY.  353 

ft  Jeremiah  is  very  well,  all  except  a  cough ; 
and,  dear  me  !  Mrs.  Brett,  I  have  n't  given 
you  his  message.  '  Tell  Mrs.  Brett,  *  he 
said,  almost  the  last  thing  before  we  came 
away  this  morning,  — '  tell  Mrs.  Brett  she  '11 
have  to  come,  to  make  me  a  treacle-posset 
for  my  cough.  Not  even  Martha  can  make 
treacle-posset  like  hers ! '  Those  were  Jere- 
miah's very  words,  Mrs.  Brett." 

A  faint  color  stole  into  the  widow's  thin 
cheeks.  She  sat  up  straight,  and  began  to 
smooth  out  her  apron.  "  Miss  Grahame,"  she 
said  emphatically,  "  I  verily  believe  you 
could  persuade  a  cat  out  of  a  bird's-nest. 
If  it  seems  I  'm  really  needed  over  to  By- 
wood  —  I  don't  hardly  know  how  I  can  go  — 
but  —  well,  there  !  you  've  come  so  fur,  and 
I  do  like  to  'comrnodate;  so  —  well,  I  don't 
really  see  how  I  can  —  but  —  I  will !  " 


354  HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY. 


CHAPTER  XVin. 

JOYOUS    GARD. 

IT  was  the  tenth  day  of  September,  and 
as  pleasant  a  day  as  one  could  wish  to  see. 
The  sun  shone  brightly  everywhere ;  but  Hil- 
degarde  thought  that  the  laughing  god  sent 
his  brightest  golden  rays  down  on  the  spot 
where  she  was  standing.  The  House  in  the 
Wood  no  longer  justified  its  name ;  for  the 
trees  had  been  cut  away  from  around  it, 
—  only  a  few  stately  pines  and  ancient 
hemlocks  remaining  to  mount  guard  over 
the  cottage,  and  to  make  pleasant  shady 
places  on  the  wide,  sunny  lawns  that 
stretched  before  and  behind  it.  The  brook 
no  longer  murmured  unseen,  but  laughed 


HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY.  355 

now  in  the  sunlight,  and  reflected  every 
manner  of  pretty  thing,  —  fleecy  cloudlet, 
fluttering  bird  or  butterfly,  nodding  fern  or 
soldierly  "  cat-tail." 

The  house  itself  looked  alert  and  wide- 
awake, with  all  its  windows  thrown  open, 
and  its  door  standing  hospitably  ajar,  as 
if  awaiting  welcome  guests.  From  an  up- 
per window  came  a  sound  of  singing,  for 
Rose  was  there,  arranging  flowers  in  the 
vases ;  from  another  direction  was  heard 
the  ring  of  a  hammer,  as  Bubble  gave  the 

last   strokes    to   a   wonderful   cart   which   he 

» 

had  been  making,  and  which  was  to  be  his 
contribution  to  the  Country  Home. 

Hildegarde  stood  on  the  piazza,  alone;  her 
hands  were  full  of  flowers,  and  the  "  laugh- 
ing light"  of  them  was  reflected  in  her 
bright,  lovely  face.  She  looked  about  her 
on  the  sunny  greenery,  on  the  blue  shining 
stream,  up  to  the  bluer  sky  above.  "This  is 


356  HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY. 

the  happiest  day  of  my  life  !  "  said  the  girl, 
softly.  She  wondered  what  she  had  done, 
that  all  this  joy  and  brightness  should  be 
hers.  Every  one  was  so  good  to  her ;  every 
one  had  helped  so  kindly  in  the  undertak- 
ing, from  the  beginning  down  to  this  happy 
end.  There  had  been  a  good  deal  to  be 
done,  of  course ;  but  it  seemed  as  if  every 
hand  had  been  outstretched  to  aid  this  work 
of  her  heart. 

Cousin  Wealthy,  of  course,  had  made  it 
possible,  and  had  been  absorbed  in  it,  heart 
and  soul,  as  had  all  the  others  of  the  house- 
hold. But  there  had  also  been  so  many 
pleasant  tokens  from  outside.  When  Mrs. 
Brett  arrived  a  week  before,  to  take  charge 
of  the  house,  she  brought  a  box  of  contri- 
butions from  her  neighbors  in  Bixby,  to 
whom  she  had  told  the  story  of  the  Coun- 
try Home,  —  scrap-books,  comforters,  rag- 
babies,  preserves,  pop-corn,  pincushions, 


HILDEGARDE'S   HOLIDAY.  357 

catsup,  kettle-holders.  Bixby  had  done  what 
it  could,  and  the  girls  and  Miss  Wealthy  and 
Martha  were  delighted  with  everything ;  but 
there  was  much  laughter  when  the  widow 
pulled  out  a  huge  bottle  of  Vino's  Vegetable 
Vivifier,  and  presented  it,  with  a  twinkle 
in  her  eye,  as  the  gift  of  Mr.  Cephas  Colt. 
Nor  had  the  scattered  villagers  of  Bywood 
been  less  generous.  One  good  farmer  had 
brought  a  load  of  wood ;  another,  some  sacks 
of  Early  Rose  potatoes ;  a  third  presented  a 
jar  of  June  butter;  a  fourth,  some  home-made 
maple-syrup.  The  wives  and  daughters  had 
equalled  those  of  Bixby  in  their  gifts  of  use- 
ful trifles  ;  and  Rose,  who  was  fond  of  de- 
tails, calculated  that  there  were  two  tidies 
for  every  chair  in  the  house. 

The  bovs  of   the  neighborhood,   who  had 

•/ 

at  first  shown  a  tendency  to  sit  round  on 
stumps  and  jeer  at  the  proceedings,  had 
now,  at  Hildegarde's  suggestion,  formed  them- 


858  HILDEGARDE'S   HOLIDAY. 

selves  into  a  Kindling- Wood  Club,  under  Bub- 
ble's leadership ;  and  they  split  wood  every 
afternoon  for  an  hour,  with  such  good  re- 
sults that  Jeremiah  reckoned  they  would  n't 
need  no  coal  round  this  place ;  they  could 
burn  kindlin's  as  reckless  as  if  they  was 
somebody's  else  hired  gal ! 

Then,  the  day  before,  a  great  cart  had 
rumbled  up  to  the  door,  bringing  a  packing- 
case,  of  a  shape  which  made  Hildegarde  cry 
out,  and  clap  her  hands,  and  say,  "  Papa !  I 
knoiv  it  is  Papa  !  "  —  which  for  the  moment 
greatly  disconcerted  the  teamster,  who  had 
no  idea  of  carrying  people's  papas  round  in 
boxes.  But  when  the  case  was  opened,  there 
was  the  prettiest  upright  piano  that  ever  was 
seen ;  and  sure  enough,  a  note  inside  the 
cover  said  that  this  was  "  for  Hildegarde's 
Hobby,  from  Hildegarde's  Poppy."  But 
more  than  that !  the  space  between  the 
piano  and  the  box  was  completely  filled  with 


HILDEGARDE'S   HOLIDAY.  359 

picture-books,  —  layers  and  layers  of  them; 
Walter  Crane,  and  Caldecott,  and  Gordon 
Browne,  and  all  the  most  delightful  picture- 
books  in  the  world.  And  in  each  book  was 
written  "  The  Rainy-Day  Library  ;  "  which 
when  Hildegarde  saw,  she  began  to  cry,  and 
said  that  her  mother  was  the  most  blessed 
creature  in  the  world. 

But  after  all,  the  thing  that  had  touched 
the  girl's  heart  most  deeply  was  the  arrival, 
this  very  morning,  of  old  Galusha  Penny- 
packer,  shuffling  along  with  his  stick,  and 
bent  almost  double  under  the  weight  of  a 
great  sack  which  he  carried  on  his  back. 
Mrs.  Brett  had  been  looking  out  of  the  win- 
dow, and  announced  that  a  crazy  man  was 
coming :  "  Looks  like  it,  anyway.  Had  n't  I 
better  call  Zee-rubble,  Miss  Grahame  ? " 

But  Hildegarde  looked  out,  recognized  the 
old  man,  and  flew  to  meet  him.  "  Good- 
morning,  Mr.  Pennypacker ! ''  she  cried  cor- 


360  HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY. 

dially.  "  Do  let  me  help  you  with  that 
heavy  bag !  There !  now  sit  down  here 
in  the  shade,  for  I  am  sure  you  are  very 
tired." 

She  brought  a  chair  quickly;  and  the  old 
man  sank  into  it,  for  he  was  indeed  ex- 
hausted by  the  long  walk  under  his  heavy 
burden.  He  gasped  painfully  for  breath ; 
and  it  was  not  till  Hildegarde  had  brought 
him  water,  and  fanned  him  diligently  for 
some  minutes,  that  he  was  able  to  speak. 

"  Thank  ye ! "  he  said  at  last,  drawing 
out  something  that  might  once  have  been 
a  handkerchief,  and  wiping  his  wrinkled  face. 
"It's  a  warm  day  —  for  walkin'." 

"  Yes,  indeed  it  is  !  "  Hildegarde  assented. 
"  And  it  is  a  long  walk  from  your  house, 
Mr.  Pennypacker.  I  fear  it  has  been  too 
much  for  you.  Could  you  not  have  got 
one  of  the  neighbors  to  give  you  a  lift?" 

"  No !  no ! "  replied  the  old  man  quickly, 


HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY.  361 

with  a  cunning  gleam  in  his  sharp  little 
eyes.  "  1  'd  ruther  walk,  —  I  'd  ruther !  Walk- 
in'  don't  cost  nothin' !  They  'd  charged  me, 
like  's  not,  a  quarter  for  fetchin'  on  me  here. 
They  think  the  old  man 's  got  money,  but 
he  hain't ;  no,  he  hain't  got  one  red  cent, 
—  not  for  them  he  hain't."  He  paused, 
and  began  fumbling  at  the  string  of  the 
sack.  ''  Hearin'  you  was  settin'  up  a  hors- 
pittle  here,"  he  said,  "  I  cal'lated  to  bring 
two  or  three  apples.  Children  likes  apples, 
don't  they  ?  "  He  looked  up  suddenly,  with 
the  same  fierce  gleam  which  had  frightened 
Hildegarde  and  Rose  so  when  they  first  saw 
him;  but  Hildegarde  had  no  longer  any  fear 
of  the  singular  old  man. 

"  Yes,  they  do !  "  she  said  warmly.  "  I 
don't  know  of  anything  they  like  so  well, 
Mr.  Pennypacker.  How  very  kind  of  you ! 
And  you  came  all  this  way  on  foot,  to  bring 
them  ?  " 


362  HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY. 

"  The'  warn't  no  shorter  way !  "  replied 
old  Galusha,  dryly.  "  Thar' !  I  reckon  them 's 
good  apples." 

They  were  superb  Red  Astrakhans ;  every 
one,  so  far  as  Hildegarde  could  see,  perfect 
in  shape  and  beauty.  Moreover,  they  had 
all  been  polished  till  they  shone  mirror-like. 
Hildegarde  wondered  what  they  had  been 
rubbed  with,  but  dismissed  the  thought,  as 
one  unwise  to  dwell  upon. 

"  They 's  wuth  money,  them  apples  !"  said 
the  old  man,  after  she  had  thanked  him  again 
and  again  for  the  timely  gift.  "  Money  !  " 
he  repeated,  lingering  on  the  word,  as  if  it 
were  pleasant  to  the  taste.  "  Huh !  there 
ain't  nobody  else  on  the  y earth  I  'd  ha' 
give  so  much  as  a  core  of  one  of  'em  to, 
'cept  you,  young  woman." 

"  I  'ra  sure  you  are  extremely  kind,  Mr. 
Penny  packer ! "  was  all  Hildegarde  could 
say. 


HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY.  363 

u  Ye  Ve  took  -thought  for  me  !  "  said  the 
old  man.  "  The'  ain't  nobody  took  thought 
for  old  G'lushe  Pennypacker,  round  here, 
not  for  a  good  while.  Ye  was  to  my  place 
yesterday,  warn't  ye  ?  "  He  looked  up  again, 
with  a  sudden  glare. 

"  Yes,"  Hildegarde  admitted,  "  I  was ;  and 
my  friend  too.  She  knit  the  stockings  for 
you,  sir.  I  hope  you  liked  them/' 

"  Yes,  yes !  "  said  the  old  man,  absently. 
"  Good  stockin's,  good  stockin's !  Nice  gal 
she  is  too.  But  —  't  was  you  left  the  book, 
warn't  it,  hey  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Hildegarde,  blushing.  "  I  am 
so  fond  of  *  Robinson  Crusoe '  myself,  I  thought 
you  might  like  it  too." 

"  Hain't  seen  that  book  for  fifty  year !  " 
said  the  old  man.  "  Sot  up  all  last  night 
readin'  it.  It  '11  be  comp'ny  to  me  all  win- 
ter. And  you  —  you  took  thought  on  me ! 
—  a  young,  fly-away,  handsome  gal,  and  old 


364  HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY. 

G'lushe  Pennypacker!     Wai,  't  won't  be  for- 
got here,  nor  yet  yender !  " 

He  gave  an  upward  jerk  of  his  head, 
and  then  passed  his  rag  of  a  handkerchief 
over  his  face  again,  and  said  he  must  be 
going.  But  he  did  not  go  till  he  had  had 
a  glass  of  milk,  and  half-a-dozen  of  Mrs. 
Brett's  doughnuts,  to  strengthen  him  for  his 
homeward  walk. 

All  this  came  back  to  Hildegarde,  as  she 
stood  on  the  piazza ;  and  as  she  recalled 
the  softened,  friendly  look  in  the  old  man's 
eyes  as  he  bade  her  good-by,  she  said  again 
to  herself,  "  This  is  the  happiest  day  of 
my  life ! "  The  next  day  would  not  be 
so  happy,  for  Rose  and  Bubble  were  going, 
—  one  to  her  home  at  Hartley's  Glen,  the 
other  to  his  school  in  New  York ;  and  in  a 
fortnight  she  must  herself  be  turning  her 
face  homeward. 

How  short  the  summer  had  been  !  —  had 


HILDEGARDE'S   HOLIDAY.  365 

there  ever  been  such  a  flying  season  ?  —  and 
yet  she  had  done  very  little ;  she  had  only 
been  happy,  and  enjoyed  herself.  Miss  Weal- 
thy, perhaps,  could  have  told  another  story, 
—  of  kind  deeds  and  words;  of  hours  spent 
in  reading  aloud,  in  winding  wools,  in  ar- 
ranging flowers,  in  the  thousand  little  help- 
fulnesses by  which  a  girl  can  make  herself 
beloved  and  necessary  in  a  household.  To 
the  gentle,  dreamy,  delicate  Rose,  Hildegarde 
had  really  been  the  summer.  Without  this 
strong  arm  always  round  her,  this  strong 
sunny  nature,  helping,  cheering,  amusing, 
how  could  she  have  come  out  of  the  life- 
long habits  of  invalidism,  and  learned  to 
face  the  world  standing  on  both  feet?  She 
could  not  have  done  it.  Rose  felt;  and  with 
this  feeling,  she  probably  would  not  have 
done  it. 

But,  as  I  said,  Hildegarde   knew   nothing 
of  this.     She  had  been  happy,  that  was  all. 


366  HILDEGARDE'S   HOLIDAY. 

And  though  she  was  going  to  her  own  be- 
loved home,  and  to  the  parents  who  were 
the  greater  part  of  the  world  to  her,  still 
she  would  be  sorry  to  leave  this  happiness 
even  for  a  completer  one. 

But  hark !  was  that  the  sound  of  wheels  ? 
Yes ;  they  were  coming. 

"  Cousin  Wealthy  !  "  cried  the  girl,  run- 
ning to  the  door.  "Rose!  Bubble!  Mar- 
tha !  Mrs.  Brett !  Benny !  Come  out,  all 
of  you  !  The  stage  is  here  !  " 

Out  they  came,  all  running,  all  out  of 
breath,  save  Miss  Wealthy,  who  knew  the 
exact  number  of  steps  that  would  bring  her 
to  the  exact  middle  of  the  piazza,  and 
took  these  steps  with  her  usual  gentle  pre- 
cision of  movement.  She  had  no  sooner 
taken  up  the  position  which  she  felt  to  be 
the  proper  one  for  her,  than  round  the  cor- 
ner came  the  By  wood  stage,  —  a  long,  lum- 
bering, ramshackle  vehicle,  in  which  sat 


HILDEGARDE'S   HOLIDAY.  367 

Mrs.  Murray,  a  kind-looking  nurse,  and 
the  twelve  convalescent  children  who  were 
to  have  the  first  delights  of  the  Country 
Home. 

At  sight  of  them  Bubble  began  to  wave 
his  hat  violently.  ;'  Hooray  !  "  he  shouted. 
"  Three  cheers  for  the  young  uns  ! " 

"  Hooray  !  "  echoed  Benny,  flapping  his 
hands  about,  as  he  had  no  hat  to  wave. 

The  children  set  up  a  feeble  shout  in 
reply,  and  waved  heads,  arms,  and  legs 
indiscriminately.  Then  ensued  a  scene  of 
joyous  confusion.  The  little  ones  were  lifted 
out,  kissed,  and  welcomed ;  their  bundles 
followed  ;  and  for  a  few  minutes  the  quiet 
place  was  filled  with  a  very  Babel  of 
voices. 

High  above  them  all  rose  the  clarion  tones 
of  Benny,  explaining  to  a  former  fellow- 
patient  his  present  position  in  life.  "I  don't 
lives  here ! "  he  said ;  "  I  lives  a  little  way 


368  HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY. 

off.  I 's  ve  boy  of  ve  house  where  I  lives, 
and  I  takes  care  of  a  whole  lot  of  women- 
folks, and  Jim  Maria  helps  me,  and  vere  's 
anover  boy  who  does  fings  for  me.  It 's 
bully,  and  I'm  goin'  to  stay  vere  all  my 
life  long." 

Mrs.  Murray  looked  quickly  at  Miss  Weal- 
thy. "Does  he  know  of  his  mother's  death?" 
she  asked  in  a  low  tone. 

"No!"  replied  Miss  Wealthy.  "He  has 
almost  forgotten  her,  poor  little  lad !  I  fear 
she  was  not  very  kind  to  him.  And  I  have 
decided  to  keep  him,  Mrs.  Murray,  and  to 
give  him  a  happy  childhood,  and  then  send 
him  to  a  good  school.  He  is  a  most  lovable 
child,  and  it  will  be  a  privilege  to  have  him, 
especially  as  my  dear  young  relative  is  to 
leave  me  soon." 

Both  looked  instinctively  toward  Hilde- 
garde,  who  was  standing,  flushed  and  radiant, 
the  centre  of  a  group  of  children,  who  clus- 


HILDEGARDE'S  HOLIDAY.  369 

tered  round  her,  pulling  at  her  hands  and 
clinging  to  her  gown. 

"  What 's  the  name  of  this  place  ?  "  one 
little  fellow  was  asking  her.  "  I  like  this 
place  !  What  is  its  name  ?  " 

"It  is  called  Joyous  Gard ! "  replied  Hil- 
degarde.  "  That  was  the  name  of  a  beautiful 
castle,  long  and  long  ago,  which  belonged  to 
a  very  brave  knight;  and  we  think  it  will 
be  a  good  name  for  your  Country  Home, 
because  we  mean  to  make  it  full  of  joy  and 
happiness,  and  yet  to  guard  you  well  in  it. 
So  Joyous  Gard  it  is  to  be.  Say  it  now,  all  of 
you,  — '  Joyous  Gard  ! ' 

And  "Joyous  Gard!"  shouted  the  children, 
their  voices  echoing  merrily  among  the  trees, 
and  spreading  away,  till  Rose,  the  romantic, 
wondered  if  some  faint  tone  of  it  might  not 
reach  a  pale  shade  called  Lancelot  du  Lake, 
and  bring  him  comfort  where  he  sorrowed 
for  his  sins. 

24 


370  HILDEGARDE'S   HOLIDAY. 

So  in  Joyous  Gard  let  us  leave  our  Hilde- 
garde,  —  in  each  hand  a  child,  around  her 
many  loving  hearts,  in  her  own  heart  great 
joy  and  light  and  love.  Let  us  leave  her, 
and  wish  that  all  girls  might  know  the  cheer 
and  happiness  that  was  hers,  not  for  that  day 
only,  but  through  all  her  days. 


THE   END. 


